


Indefinitely

by complicationstoo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actor Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Notting Hill Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexual Tony Stark, Bookstore Owner Tony Stark, Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Together, M/M, Notting Hill AU, Younger Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complicationstoo/pseuds/complicationstoo
Summary: Recent college graduate Tony Stark is content with his life. He has his bookstore, a few close friends, and he hasn't spoken to his father in over a year. When Steve Rogers, the actor famous for his role as Captain America, walks into the store one autumn morning, Tony's in for one hell of a ride.A Notting Hill AU
Relationships: Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 180
Kudos: 399





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story is based off the rom com classic Notting Hill, featuring actor Steve and bookstore owner Tony, but there's absolutely no need to have seen the movie for it to make sense :) I hope you like it!

Tony unlocks the door to the bookstore and flips the sign to open. He’s a few minutes late, but as the owner and one of the only employees, it doesn’t matter much. No one was waiting for the store to be open anyway. 

Business is always slow, and some days Tony wonders how he even manages to keep it afloat. But he loves his bookstore, loves running his own business and calling all his own shots. The bookstore gave him a life to call his own, away from the controlling hands of his father and the path that was chosen for him since birth. He wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if it means struggling to pay his rent sometimes. 

He walks to the backroom, switching on lights as he goes, and presses the button on the phone to listen to the messages. One from a telemarketer, another from a wrong number looking for their friend, and one from his mother. He erases all of them, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his mother’s rambling message about nothing in particular. She always calls, updates him on everything that’s happened since the last time, then tells him he should quit and come back to his father’s company. It’s the same thing every time, and then she honestly wonders why he never calls first. 

The bell on the door chimes with the entrance of a customer, and he walks back to the front to greet them, though the man completely ignores him to browse on his own. He’s learned to live with the somewhat uncomfortable silence that happens when there’s few customers in the store, all of whom don’t wish to have a conversation with him. Customers stopped surprising him years ago, both with how rude and how strange they can be. 

A long hour passes by, with only one or two more customers trickling in, until Pepper arrives for her shift. He smiles at her, grateful for the company of his friend and one of two other employees. She’s older than him by a couple years, twenty three to his twenty one, but she’s one of very few people that’s never treated him like a kid. 

“Hey, Tony,” she says, tossing her purse into the backroom. She joins him at the counter. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, business as usual,” he shrugs. 

“Slow, then?”

“Like goddamn molasses.”

Pepper smiles, “I’ve got something that’ll make you happy.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“James is coming back on leave next week.”

Tony perks up instantly. “Rhodey’s coming home? Why didn’t he call me?”

“I told him I’d tell you,” Pepper shrugs. “He’ll be back on Sunday, and then he’s leaving again the next Monday. Which means…”

“He’ll be home for his birthday,” Tony completes the sentence, grinning. “And he won’t have to work the next day, so he’s got no excuse for getting out of the party we’re definitely having.”

Pepper nods, “But we’re keeping it small. Just you, me, Nat, and Clint. No torturing my boyfriend on his birthday.”

“But it’s so fun torturing him.”

Pepper laughs, “It’s a miracle he didn’t strangle you in college.”

“Please, he loves me,” Tony scoffs. He turns to Pepper and sweetly adds, “And you know who else loves me?”

“It’s not even ten yet. How can you already need more caffeine?”

He widens his eyes and sticks out his lower lip in response, and Pepper rolls her eyes affectionately. 

“Alright, fine,” she says. “But I’m taking your wallet.”

He fishes it out of his back pocket and hands it to her. There’s no need to tell her what he wants or remind her that she can get whatever she wants with his card, too. The routine is old enough that it doesn’t need words anymore. 

“Be back in fifteen,” she calls over her shoulder. The door chimes on her way out. 

It’s only three minutes later when it chimes again, and he straightens from where he’s hunched over the counter, fiddling absentmindedly with the clicker of a pen.

“Hi there,” he says, smiling brightly at the man that enters the store. 

The man gives a smile in return, though it’s tight and forced. Never one to be deterred, Tony continues, “Let me know if I can help you with anything.”

Completely ignored this time. 

Tony watches from the corner of his eye as the man walks through the front aisle, picking up the occasional book and turning it over. He never seems to read beyond the first sentence of each summary, and then the book gets put back in its spot. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, though Tony can’t say what. His sunglasses stay on, and a baseball cap with a Dodgers logo keeps his appearance obscure. Blond hair peeks out from under it, but not by much. His white t-shirt leaves little to the imagination, and Tony tries not to stare too obviously at the way his arm muscles flex when he reaches for the books. 

Another customer walks in, and Tony delivers a similar greeting. Her answering smile seems a little more real as she walks by the counter toward the back shelves that house the young adult selection. 

The man picks up a new release from last week, one that Tony was excited for, but ended up being disappointed with. 

“I wouldn’t recommend that one.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to say it, and he resists the urge to wince at himself once it’s out. It’s not exactly a good business practice to discourage someone from buying something. 

The man glances up, a hint of a smile appearing. “Why’s that?”

Tony swallows, “There’s a major plot hole in chapter twelve. Kind of ruins the whole thing.” The man appears to actually be interested, so Tony continues, “Plus there’s this love triangle that’s just completely forced. One of the guys is such an asshole that there’s no reason for the girl to even consider him an option, but of course she does because drama or whatever. And then the other guy does the whole ‘I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me’ thing, because apparently self-sacrifice is hot. Not exactly the most original plot line if you ask me. Which I guess you didn’t, so, um.”

Tony trails off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. When he has the nerve to look back up at the man, the slight smile has turned into silent laughter, and Tony feels his face heat up. 

The man comes up to the counter and sets the book down. “Think I’ll take it anyway. Find that plot hole for myself.”

Tony nods and scans the book, focusing on selecting the right buttons on the screen. “That’ll be $29.74.”

The man reaches in his pocket for his wallet and pulls out $30 in cash. While Tony’s getting his change, the young woman that entered a minute ago lets out a startled gasp. Tony looks up at her, while the man looks off toward the windows at the front of the store and pulls his hat lower.

“Excuse me,” she says, taking a step closer. The man visibly stiffens. “You’re Steve Rogers, right? Could I get a picture with you?”

_ Oh,  _ Tony thinks. That’s why he looked familiar. 

Despite his clear discomfort, the man - Steve - puts on a smile and says, “Of course.”

The girl starts rambling while she pulls up her camera app, going on about how much she loves his movies. Steve’s a talented actor, one of the most popular ones in Hollywood right now, and the girl seems to think he’s hung the moon or something. Tony’s seen a few of them - they’re pretty good. 

Tony slides the book into a small paper bag while she talks and Steve nods along, saying thank you and commenting at all the appropriate places. When she’s finally done, Steve turns back to collect his bag, gives another tight smile to Tony and a last goodbye to the girl, then walks out the door. 

The girl sighs dreamily, “Wasn’t that just incredible?”

Tony tries not to laugh. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Oh, God,” the girl sobers suddenly, looking a touch panicked. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”

“No, no, you were fine,” Tony quickly assures. 

She seems placated by the answer and gives Tony a beaming smile. Back on her phone, she walks out of the store, leaving Tony there alone again. Apparently celebrity sightings make people forget the original reason they walked into a store in the first place, because she left a book she’d grabbed at the front counter. He uses it as an excuse to wander through the shelves a bit, double checking that everything is properly shelved, until Pepper comes back with the coffee. 

“Ugh, that took forever,” she says, opening the door with her hip. “The line was crazy long.”

Tony hums in acknowledgement and reaches for the coffee she’s holding out for him. He takes a sip, then promptly gags. 

“Oh, God, what is this?” He checks the writing on the cup, and even though it’s claiming to be regular iced coffee with a shot of vanilla, it’s definitely not. 

“Is it wrong?” Pepper frowns. 

“I think the barista is trying to poison me.”

Pepper takes the cup from him and takes a drink. “With pumpkin spice? Interesting tactic.”

“It’s the slow play,” he says. “Death by caffeine withdrawal.” 

Pepper laughs, then holds out her cup, “We can trade if you want. I don’t mind yours.”

“Nah, I’ll just run over there and get a new one. Keep it for later if you want.”

Tony’s almost out the door when Pepper says, “Oh, hey, you might want this.”

He turns around in time to catch his wallet before it can hit him in the chest. “Yeah, that’s a good call.”

Their go-to coffee shop is about five minutes away, just around the corner from the bookstore. The walk gives the autumn air just enough time to make him wish he was wearing more than a thin t-shirt, but the coffee shop is always warm this time of year. 

The line is still long when he gets there, and he patiently waits for his turn. He recognizes that he could ask for a replacement, but he orders a new one instead so Pepper can keep the other. The bookstore doesn’t make enough money to pay much more than minimum wage, and he always feels bad about that fact. The least he can do is give her another coffee. 

He orders a larger version of his usual drink, and it’s another few minutes while he waits for it to be made. On the way out of the shop, he sticks the straw in and sighs contently at the taste. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket, distracting him as he turns the corner. Later, he’ll look to see that it was a text from Nat, and he’ll blame her for what happens next. 

He runs directly into something very solid, only to realize it’s a person when he hears, “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” Tony exclaims. 

The coffee in his hand has become a casualty, but the even worse victim is the person’s white t-shirt, which is soaked through enough to stick to a very nice set of abs. He follows the abs up to the person’s face and immediately wishes he could evaporate on the spot. 

Steve doesn’t seem quite as angry as he should be, but he’s definitely annoyed, even as he jokes, “You were that upset that I got that book, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony repeats. “I - shit, that was an accident. I’m just - I’m very sorry. Oh, god, I can - let me get you a new shirt or something. You can have one of mine.” 

Steve looks caught off guard, and Tony explains, “I live just right there. You could, um, get cleaned up, if you wanted. It’s the least I could do for ruining your shirt.”

“That would actually be nice,” Steve says, though he doesn’t sound very sure of that. “How far is it?”

Tony points a few yards down the sidewalk, “Above the bookstore, actually.”

Steve nods, gesturing for Tony to lead the way. Normally, Tony hates the fact that the stairs to his apartment are outside the building, especially in the winter or in the rain, but he’s grateful for it today. This way Pepper can’t see that he’s spilled coffee over one the most famous actors of their generation and mock him forever for it. 

He gets to the door, then realizes he left his key under the counter downstairs. Glancing over his shoulder, he gives Steve a smile that’s meant to be reassuring. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta get the spare key.”

The process for getting the spare is fairly intricate by his own design. He’s built in a hidden compartment to the wall that only opens when he completes a series of touches to discreetly camouflaged sensors. He calls it practical. Pepper and Rhodey call it paranoid, and his roommate, Clint, calls it the most frustrating system to ever exist. He carefully doesn’t look at Steve’s face to avoid finding out what he thinks of it. 

“The bathroom’s through that door right there, if you want to clean up. I’ll get you something else to wear.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says, holding up a plastic bag. “Got a new one in here.”

“Oh, okay,” Tony says, mostly to himself as Steve disappears into the bathroom. 

The second he’s gone, Tony remembers that the apartment is a damn mess. The kitchen sink is full of dishes that Clint was supposed to take care of yesterday, according to the chore chart that both of them have a tendency to ignore. Natasha, Clint’s foster sister, made the chart for them to solve the bickering over housekeeping duties that began shortly after Clint moved in. It didn’t work, but they let her think that it did. The truth is they both got accustomed to living with a certain amount of mess and scramble to clean up every time someone comes over. Unfortunately, that system doesn’t work so well with unexpected guests. 

He picks up the clothes from the living room floor, a mix of both his socks and, for some reason, Clint’s t-shirts, and shoves them into the hamper in his bedroom. The collection of wires, tools, and other small metal pieces gets swept off the coffee table and into the cardboard box they came from. He puts a few mugs in the empty dishwasher, but that’s all he has time to do before the bathroom door is opening and he has to pretend that he wasn’t just frantically cleaning. 

The shirt Steve comes out in is somehow tighter than the previous one, and Tony’s mouth goes instantly dry. It doesn’t help that the sunglasses have come off, letting Tony see his eyes. He would have sworn that they were edited in the movies to be that shade of blue - no one’s eyes are really that bright - but he can see now that he was wrong. 

Steve snaps him out of his staring by saying, “I’m all done here. Thank you. For the help, that is.”

“Sorry for being the reason you needed help in the first place,” Tony says sheepishly. 

Steve shrugs, “Just as much my fault as it was yours.”

There’s an awkward pause, and Tony realizes that this moment is coming dangerously close to the end, but he doesn’t want it to. 

“So, can I get you anything?” he asks, pointing to the fridge. “I don’t think there’s a whole lot, but there’s probably water or juice or something.”

“I’m good, thank you,” Steve says with a polite smile. “Think I’ll just head out and let you get back to work.”

Tony had completely forgotten that he should have been back at the store already, and he’s disappointed by the reminder. 

“Right, yeah,” Tony nods. “I should do that. Work is - work is important. I’ll, uh, walk you out.”

They move towards the door together, and Tony knows he should just stop talking before he says something completely embarrassing, but he’s never had much of a filter. 

At the threshold, he says, “It was really great meeting you. I’m sure you hear that all the time, but I thought I should say it anyway. You’re a lot nicer than I was expecting.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, “What were you expecting?”

“Oh, no,” Tony says, eyes wide as he realizes what he implied. “I didn’t really mean that I thought you’d be a jerk specifically. Just celebrities in general. You never really expect them to be nice. But you, you’re - I’m just going to stop talking now.”

Steve laughs, “It’s alright. I know what you mean.” 

Tony breathes a small sigh of relief, nodding to himself. Another pause gives him the time to say something else he knows he’ll regret later. 

“Hey, you should stop by again sometime. The store, I mean. Let me know if you catch that plot hole.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “Maybe I will.”

He walks out the door after that, leaving Tony standing there in complete disbelief. 


	2. Chapter 2

“This show sucks,” Clint says. He’s upside down on the couch, head hanging off the cushion and legs draped over the back. Tony doesn’t know how he can possibly watch TV like that, but he does it all the time. 

“Shut up, this is the good part,” Tony says. 

On the screen, Steve’s character is about to discover that his girlfriend is secretly a witch. They’ve been building up to it since the first episode, and he’s not about to let Clint talk right over it. 

Clint miraculously stays quiet through the scene, except to say again that the writing is terrible. When the episode ends and Tony confirms that he is, in fact, still watching, Clint groans and asks, “Why are we watching this? It wasn’t even good when it came out.”

“I like it,” Tony says, even though the real reason is more complicated than that. 

He couldn’t sleep the night after he met Steve, too caught up in replaying everything that happened, so he wound up googling him and reading his Wikipedia page. That led to reading interviews, which led to watching clips of him on late night talk shows. It ended up here, with Tony watching Steve’s first major acting gig that he landed at sixteen. It’s not that bad, despite what Clint says, but it’s exactly what he expected when he read the synopsis and found out Steve played a teenage heartthrob vampire. 

“That’s Sharon Carter, right?” Clint asks, pointing out the blonde girl on the screen. In the show, her character is the witch that’s dating Steve’s character.

Tony nods, and Clint follows up, “Are they still dating? Her and Steve, I mean.”

“How should I know?”

According to TMZ, they broke up last month, but he can’t tell Clint that. Just like he won’t admit to anyone but himself that it secretly pleased him to find that out. 

“How many episodes is this?”

“There’s five seasons.”

Clint gawks, “They let this shit go on for five years?”

Tony hits him with a pillow and laughs when Clint moves out of the way, only to fall off the couch. In retaliation, Clint tugs him down by the cuff of his sweatpants so they both end up laughing on the floor. 

Clint shifts so he’s sitting with his back against the couch and his legs tucked up to his chest. Tony sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and takes some popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. 

“Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you,” Clint says after a couple of minutes. “Someone called for you a couple days ago.”

Tony frowns, “The landline?”

No one ever calls the landline except for telemarketers. They only have it still because neither of them are willing to call the cable company to disconnect it. Plus, it works great to use as a fake number in bars. Can’t send unsolicited dick pics to a landline. 

Clint shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth, talking with his mouth full to say, “Yeah, it was some guy.”

“Some guy?” Tony questions. “Got any more details for me there, birdbrain?”

Clint swallows, “He said something about you spilling coffee on him, and that you’d know who he was. Gave some weird name for you to call him at his hotel.”

Tony jolts up, eyes wide. “What hotel? What was the name?”

“Fairmont Copley,” Clint says, unaffected by Tony’s franticness. “Don’t remember the name. Something like Peter Pan or Mowgli. You know, Disney shit.”

“Oh my God,” Tony mutters under his breath. He repeats it over and over like a mantra as he googles the hotel on his phone and finds the number. It rings twice before the person at the front desk answers. 

“Hi, um, I’m calling to talk to someone that’s staying at your hotel.”

“What’s the name or room number?” the man on the other end asks. 

“So, here’s the thing,” Tony starts. He lowers his voice so Clint can’t hear the name. “I’m calling for Steve Rogers. He called my landline a couple days ago, and left a message, so I know that he’s using a different name. But my roommate - he’s kind of an idiot sometimes, you see - wait, no, that’s harsh, sorry. But anyway my roommate took the message, and he can’t remember the fake name, so I’m really hoping you can put me through anyway.” 

There’s no response on the other end, so Tony continues, “He says it might have been Peter Pan.”

“There is no one by that name staying here,” the man says. 

“Right, um, let’s try Mowgli, then? No, okay. Aladdin? Quasimodo? Oh, God. Jafar?” 

The hope is draining out of his body, and he feels himself deflating at every rejected name. There’s too many options. He’s about to cut his losses and thank the man for his time when Clint pipes up, “Try Simba.”

“Is it, by chance, Simba?”

“I’ll patch you through.”

Tony almost drops his phone in shock. He has just enough time to duck into his bedroom, shut the door, and realize he has no plan of what he’s going to say before he hears, “Hello?”

“Hi,” he says too loudly and too high-pitched. He clears his throat and tries again, “Uh, hey, it’s Tony. From the bookstore.”

“Hey, Tony from the bookstore,” Steve says, sounding amused. “I see you’re playing it cool. Making me wait almost a week to hear from you.”

Tony laughs, “Not intentionally, no. My roommate forgot to pass along the message until about two minutes ago, and then he forgot your fake name.” 

“Oh, yeah, that can get confusing sometimes, sorry,” Steve says. “But I learned a long time ago that using my real name doesn’t turn out so well, and most people aren’t really looking for Lion King characters at hotels.”

“Is it always Lion King?”

“Not always. Last time I was Prince Charming.”

“Hm, I can picture that,” Tony says.

“I think I got rejected for that role once, actually.” Steve easily switches the topic to the book he bought at Tony's shop after a slight pause, “I can’t believe that no one noticed that plot hole before that book was released, by the way.”

“Oh, God, right? It makes me want to write an angry letter to the publisher about it.”

“Make sure you include that part about the love triangle while you’re at it. Although, personally I think the whole dramatic reveal at the end was an even worse offense.”

“When it turned out she was the killer all along? Yeah, that kind of twist is seriously overplayed. It’s like the author looked up a list of cliches and used them all.” 

Steve starts to speak, but cuts off abruptly. There’s some shuffling on his end of the call and a muffled, “Be there in a second.”

“Hey, Tony? I’ve actually gotta go. There’s some press thing happening in a bit that I have to be at. Would you maybe want to come by later today though? We could get a late lunch or something.”

Tony forgets how to breathe for a moment. “Yeah, that would be, that would be nice.”

“Great,” Steve says, and Tony’s surprised by how sincere it sounds. “Can you be here at around two? It’s room 508.”

Tony nods before remembering that Steve can’t see him. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Steve says, then smoothly adds, “Oh, and just in case it wasn’t clear, this is a date.”

“A date, yes,” Tony repeats. “I’ll see you at two.”

“See you then.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a quarter till two when Tony knocks on the door of room 508. He changed his clothes at least five times before he left, eventually deciding on a simple button up shirt and black jeans. As he stands in the hallway of one of the nicest hotels in Boston, though, he feels incredibly underdressed. 

The door opens, and Tony barely has time to be surprised that the person who opens it is definitely not Steve Rogers before she’s saying, “Oh, good, you’re finally here.”

She ushers him into the room, not giving him a chance to ask what the hell is happening before she’s walking him through the suite. A man and a woman are setting up what appears to be a white backdrop and photography lighting in a cleared out space in what must have been a living room.

“We’re already running a bit behind, so please try to be quick about it. He has all his own products - sensitive skin, like I said on the phone. I know you received all the information in the email, but just a reminder to keep it light. Nothing extreme on this one.”

Tony follows her into a second room, where he sees Steve sitting on the edge of a bed, looking at his phone. Steve stands when he sees him, looking ready to speak before the woman who walked Tony in says to him, “This is the makeup artist.” She turns to Tony. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Uh, Tony.” 

“Great, I’ll let you get started. We’re ready in the other room whenever you are.”

Tony watches her leave, then turns back to Steve, who looks as confused as Tony feels. 

“Why does she think you’re a makeup artist?” Steve asks. 

“I’m not really sure. She just assumed that I was the second she saw me and never gave me a chance to say that I’m not.”

He gives Tony an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I thought we’d be done with this by the time you got here.”

Steve goes to run a hand through his hair, then stops at the last second. It’s perfectly styled to appear to have fallen naturally into place, but it probably took a stylist and at least three different products. 

Tony nods, then asks, “Do you think it’s because I look like a twink?”

“Uh, what?” Steve sputters. 

“Why she thinks I’m the makeup artist,” Tony explains. “Cause it was pretty instant. Not exactly wrong, because I actually can do makeup, but someone should really teach her about stereotypes.”

Steve’s face seems to have multiple emotions competing for dominance, but it finally lands on amusement as he says, “I’ll let her know that not all twinks can do makeup.”

He says the word “twink” carefully, like it’s never come out of his mouth before, and Tony smiles, “Even though this twink can.”

Steve grins, “I think you should prove it.”

“Oh, really?”

“It does seem that I’m in need of a makeup artist,” Steve shrugs. He points to a door over his shoulder. “And everything you need is in there.”

Tony shakes his head, smiling, “I just want you to know this is the weirdest first date I’ve ever been on.”

“Already, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard to beat accidentally becoming a makeup artist for a movie star’s photoshoot,” Tony says while Steve leads him into the large bathroom. There’s a vanity with a large mirror surrounded by bright lights to the side, with all the products set out on top of it. A plush white chair is in front of the vanity, and when Steve sits down in it, Tony says, “Although I think it’s getting progressively weirder.”

Steve laughs, “I promise our second date will be normal.”

Tony tries to appear less affected by that than he actually is. The idea of a first date seemed impossible just this morning, and a second one is unfathomable. 

He looks through the makeup on the tabletop, deciding on the appropriate order of operations, and asks, “What’s a normal date for you?”

“Well, this one was supposed to be just a casual lunch,” Steve says while Tony picks up the concealer. Tony tilts his head back with one finger under his chin. “There’s this place down the street that’s supposed to be pretty good and a little more private. But normal dates for me are pretty much what they are for everyone else. Restaurants, movies. Those kinds of things. ”

Tony blends the concealer into the skin under Steve’s eyes. “You’re not out, right? Are you okay with people seeing you with me?”

Steve shrugs, “People would just assume we’re friends. I’ve done it before.”

“Really?”

“A couple of times. Not long relationships, but no one ever suspected anything.”

Tony isn’t sure how to feel about that, being someone’s secret. Although it’s more like being someone’s lie, he supposes, if Steve is going to say they’re just friends. Neither seem like great options. 

“So you’d want people to think we’re friends?” He keeps his voice neutral as he picks up a makeup brush to apply a thin layer of foundation. 

“In the beginning, at least,” Steve says. He seems to sense Tony’s unease at the situation. “I’m not saying it would stay that way if this became something long term, but it would be easier for both of us at first. Being connected with me, it would change things for you. I wouldn’t ask that much of you right now.”

Tony nods, “Okay.”

“If you - if that seems like too much, I get it.” Steve hesitates, “I’d understand if you want to walk away. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Tony focuses on blending the foundation along Steve’s jawline. It gives him an excuse not to respond right away. Steve catches on again. 

“You don’t have to have an answer now. You don’t really know me yet, and I don’t know you. It’s not like either one of us can know now if it’ll be worth it. I just wanted to put that out there. If there’s any point where it’s too much, I’d rather you just say so.”

Tony nods another time, putting the makeup brush down. He takes a step back and looks at Steve’s face to check that everything is properly blended. When he’s satisfied that it is, he reaches for the tube of clear mascara. 

“Look up, please,” he instructs. 

He does bottom lashes first, then moves on to the top lashes, keeping it minimal on both. Just enough to make his lashes look fuller, not that they really need the help. A light dusting of powder and a bit of lip balm are the finishing touches, and he steps back again for one last check. 

“All set,” Tony says. 

Steve turns his head to look in the mirror and smiles. “I’d say this is just as good as anything any other makeup artist has done.”

“It’s really not that complicated,” Tony shrugs. “I’m sure you could have done it yourself.”

Steve stands, and the space between them is reduced to nearly nothing. Tony didn’t realize quite how tall Steve was before. The top of Tony’s head comes to just above Steve’s chin. He feels even smaller when Steve’s hand completely covers his hip, but he doesn’t mind the feeling at all. 

“Where would have been the fun in that?” Steve questions. 

Even though he’s expecting the kiss that follows, he still ends up surprised by it. It’s softer than he would have imagined, and Steve’s hand cups his cheek gently, like he’s something delicate. 

Steve smiles when they part. “Can’t do that by myself.”

“Well, you could, but you’d smudge the mirror,” Tony jokes, and he’s rewarded with a soft laugh. “You’ll tell me, too, right? If it’s too much for you.”

“Of course,” Steve says softly. “But I -”

A knock on the door cuts him off, and Steve steps back quickly just before it opens. Tony’s cheek feels cold where Steve’s hand was. 

“Are we ready yet?” the woman from before asks.

“We’ll be just a second,” Steve says. When the woman leaves again, he turns to Tony, “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. You know, just in case I need a touch up.”

He attempts to wink, and Tony grins. “Oh, wow, I’ve found your one flaw. You can’t wink.”

“Better to have that out in the open now, I guess,” Steve says. “Save you from future disappointment.”

Tony can’t help it - he leans up and kisses him again. 

“You should get out there,” Tony says, running his hand down the front of Steve’s shirt to smooth out the crease he’s caused. “You still owe me a date later.”

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight’s good,” he says, then he remembers, “Oh, wait, no, it’s - fuck. It’s my best friend’s birthday. We’re having a small thing, shit.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Steve says.

“I can maybe -” Tony’s mind catches up to what Steve’s just said. “Wait, what?”

Steve smiles, “Sounds fun, if you’ve got room for another.”

Tony’s eyebrows knit together. “Are you sure? There’s really not going to be a whole lot happening. Just dinner with a couple of friends.” 

“I like dinner,” Steve says simply. “And I’m sure I’ll like your friends. If you don’t want me there, that’s fine, really. But don’t say no just for my sake.”

“No, I - I’d like it if you came.”

“So I’ll come.”

There’s a pause, then Tony says, “You know people don’t usually meet each other’s friends on second dates.”

“People don’t usually have their first dates in hotel room bathrooms, either.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Tony agrees. “We’ll have to make up a better story.”

“Why? I kind of like ours.”

“That’s way too sappy, get out of here,” Tony says, pushing Steve toward the door. Laughing, Steve lets himself be shoved out of the room. 

Tony stands off to the side as the photoshoot gets started, watching as Steve shakes hands with the photographer and his assistant. He’s infallibly polite throughout it, following the instructions given to him without a word of complaint when they decide something isn’t working. His shirt changes a couple of times, eventually landing on a dark blue that brings out his eyes and stands out well against the background, which also changes from white to gray. 

As he watches Steve go through every possible facial expression and pose, Tony realizes there’s a difference between this smile and the one he’s been receiving all afternoon. This is manufactured - still brilliant and charming and worth the hefty paycheck Tony’s sure he’s getting for it, but manufactured nonetheless. His eyes aren’t quite as bright, the lines around them not as deep. It’s a little too wide as well, but when Steve glances over and meets Tony’s eyes, it softens considerably. 

It’s an hour later when the photoshoot finally comes to an end. The photographer shows Steve the pictures, and Steve assesses them with a clearly well-trained eye while the assistant starts packing away the equipment. 

When he’s done, Steve looks at Tony, then tilts his head toward the door he’s headed toward. Tony follows him back into the room Steve was in when he first arrived and jokes, “So was it your plan all along just to get me in your bedroom?”

“Damn, you caught me,” Steve grins, back to the look Tony knows is real. 

“Most people have the courtesy to buy me dinner first.”

“I thought we already established we weren’t most people.”

Tony laughs, “Yeah, I guess we did.”

They stand there for a quiet moment, just smiling at each other, until Steve says, “Thank you, by the way.”

“What for?”

“Rolling with it today,” Steve says. “I know it was strange, but thanks for being okay with it.”

“I’m pretty good at ‘rolling with it,’” Tony replies with air quotes. “It’s actually one of my specialties.”

“Yeah? What are the others?”

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” Tony smirks. “I can’t give away all my secrets on the first date.”

“I think I still technically owe you the rest of a date. I know it’s a little late now, but are you still up for lunch?”

Tony checks the time on his watch and deflates a little. “I should actually get going. For some reason, I’m responsible for the birthday cake, and it’s from this place all the way across town. And then Pepper’s distracting Rhodey, so I can decorate their place. It never works when we try to surprise him, but we still try every year.”

“Rhodey’s the best friend, I take it.”

“Oh, yeah. His name’s actually James, but that’s boring so I call him Rhodey. Pepper’s his girlfriend,” Tony explains. He hesitates, then thinks,  _ fuck it,  _ “You could, um, if you’re not busy, you could maybe come with me? I could use another set of hands.”

Steve smiles, “I’d like that.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Has anyone ever told you that being a passenger in your car is a terrifying experience?” Steve asks as Tony parks his car outside the bakery that has Rhodey’s cake. 

Tony grins, “Surprisingly I’ve received that feedback before. But I’ll have you know that I’ve never even gotten a ticket.”

Steve looks at him dubiously as he gets out of the car and pulls on the same Dodgers hat from the other day. “Have you been bribing cops, then?”

“No,” Tony rolls his eyes with a smile. “But on an unrelated note, did you know that cops have a tendency to get uncomfortable when a guy starts crying? It’s even worse if you lie and say that you’re on your way to the hospital to visit your dying grandmother.”

“That is horrible,” Steve shakes his head, but he can’t hide his amusement. 

“Oh, please, you’d do it, too, if you could get away with it.”

They walk into the bakery, Steve holding the door open for Tony, as he asks, “What makes you think I couldn’t?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “It’d make for a terrible headline, wouldn’t it? ‘Steve Rogers cons his way out of a ticket.’” Tony mimics a fake marquee with his hands. 

Steve chuckles as they join the line behind the counter, “That headline’s not nearly sensationalized enough.”

“True,” Tony agrees. “Probably needs a Captain America angle. Something like ‘Captain America: Civil Disobedience.’ Get it? ‘Cause of the movie Civil War?” 

“Hey, Tony?” 

“Yeah?”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

Tony laughs and lightly elbows Steve in the ribs. “What can I say, my degree was in electrical engineering, not journalism.”

“You have a degree in electrical engineering?” Steve frowns. “But you work at a bookstore.”

“I, uh, own it, actually,” Tony corrects. 

Steve’s confusion understandably increases. “So you own a bookstore, you have a degree in electrical engineering, and you’re - how old are you?”

“Twenty one. And I also have a degree in physics.”

“You have two degrees? At 21?” 

“Three, technically. Bachelors and a Masters in electrical engineering. Just a bachelors in physics, though.”

“Oh, just a bachelors, okay,” Steve says dryly. “In that case I’m no longer impressed.”

Tony laughs, “It’s really not that impressive anyway.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it is.” 

Tony only responds with a shrug, and then it’s their turn at the counter. Steve stands off to the side a little, pulling his hat a little lower on his head. With the sunglasses, it’s a decent enough disguise, but only because no one is expecting to see him here. 

A few minutes later they’re walking back to Tony’s car, and Steve sets the cake in his lap while Tony goes back to the driver’s seat. The hat and sunglasses get taken off, leaving just Steve. 

“So why the bookstore then?” he asks as Tony fiddles with the radio. “Three science degrees don’t seem to add up to that.”

“It was left to me,” Tony says. He considers stopping there, but then he supposes that the whole point of a date is to get to know someone and leaving out pieces of the story doesn’t help that. “My family had a butler when I was growing up, and he was sort of like a father to me. It was his wife’s dream to have a small bookstore after they retired, but she passed before they could. He retired about a year after that, came here, opened up the store. I worked at it while I was getting my degrees, just to help him out, and then he left it to me when he died a couple of years ago. It wasn’t really in my plans, but I love having it. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Steve nods, then asks, “What was the plan? Before the bookstore happened, what were you going to do?”

“You ever heard of Stark Industries?”

“Yeah, sure. Kind of hard not to know about it,” Steve says. His fingers are tapping absentmindedly against the side of the cake box. “You wanted to work there?”

“Not really,” Tony says vaguely. He sighs, “I was supposed to run it.”

The tapping stops. “What?”

Tony nods, pushing through his discomfort at talking about it. It would have come out eventually, anyway. “My father is Howard Stark. The company is still technically mine if he ever retires, but let’s be honest he’ll probably die in his office before that ever happens. Right now I should be working in research and development, designing products and never getting any credit for them. But I don’t want to build weapons, and I definitely don’t want to work for my father, so, bookstore.”

“Bookstore,” Steve echos softly to himself. He seems to be processing that information dump, and it gives Tony time to feel self-conscious and worry that he’s completely overshared. The tapping resumes just before Steve asks, “So, you’re an actual genius, right? Like, MENSA certified and all that?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

“And here I was worried about my career being intimidating for you. Turns out I’m significantly less interesting than you.” Steve shakes his head, but he seems happy about it for some reason that Tony can’t quite figure out. He turns to Tony, “You don’t care at all that I’m famous, do you?”

Tony shrugs, “It’s not why I’m here, if that’s what you’re asking. If you’d been a dick when we met I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell you to fuck off.”

“I believe it,” Steve laughs. He looks over at Tony, and his smile grows even more before he looks away again, out the window and toward the traffic around them. “So how many people am I meeting tonight?”

“Just four. Nat, Clint, Pepper, and Rhodey.”

“How do you know them?”

“Rhodey was my roommate in college all four years. Pepper and I met in college, too, but she was at Harvard and I was at MIT. I hardcore flirted with her at a party, and she laughed in my face and said I looked like I was twelve,” Tony says, and Steve laughs again. 

“How old were you actually?”

Tony has to think about it for a second before he answers, “It was my junior year, so I guess I would’ve been seventeen. We became friends, though, and I was the one that introduced her to Rhodey. It wasn’t a set up on purpose, but I take credit for their relationship every chance I get. I think they’ve been together for a little over three years now.” 

“And the others?”

“Nat’s been working part time at the store for about two years now. She’s a hardass on the outside, but don’t let her fool you. She teaches ballet to kids on weekends, and I once saw her cry because one of her students drew a picture of her in their kindergarten class. Clint’s her foster brother and my dumbass roommate that forgot to pass along your message.”

“So Nat’s a secret softie, and Clint’s dumb,” Steve says, bobbing his head. “Got it.”

“And, uh, if Clint mentions that I’ve been binge watching  _ Mystery High  _ for the last few days, I’m pleading the fifth in advance.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, “You’ve been watching my show?” 

“I’d never seen it before. I was ten when it came out.”

“So what’d you think of it?” Steve asks. “Feel free to insult it all you want. I’m perfectly aware that it’s not my best work.”

“It’s not that bad,” Tony smiles. “It’s definitely not your best, but that’s more on the writers than on you. I mean, a person can only do so much with lines like ‘you make my teeth ache.’”

Steve laughs, covering his face with his hand, “Oh, no, I’d come so close to forgetting I’d ever said that.”

“How can you forget that? It’s iconic, Steve.”

“It’s so incredibly awful that I can’t believe I ever got another acting job after that.”

“But you said it with such conviction. I truly believed that you were a lonely eighteenth century vampire falling in love with a teenage witch,” Tony teases. “What an age gap, though.”

“Three hundred years is too much for you, huh?” 

“Just a little,” Tony replies. “I have a hundred and fifty year limit. They can’t predate electricity. That’s just weird.”

“An interesting standard,” Steve says. “Got any others?”

“Other what?”

“Standards. For dating.”

“Real ones?” Tony asks, and Steve nods. “Not really. Just can’t be an asshole, because I’ve been down that road too many times, but other than that I don’t care much. What about you?”

Steve shrugs, “Same here, I guess. And hopefully someone that can handle my work schedule. Someone that won’t make me feel guilty for it.”

“I take it that’s been a problem in the past?”

Steve seems to hesitate. “It can be.”

Even though he desperately wants to know more, Tony doesn’t want to pry, so he says instead, “I also can’t date anyone from Scotland."

"What?" 

"I can't understand their accent. It's like they speak in cursive."

Steve laughs, "Well, I guess I meet all your standards then."

Tony grins, glancing over briefly at Steve, “Yes, you’ve satisfied my incredibly low bar. Congratulations.”

The radio catches both of their attention, stopping the reply that’s about to come from Steve’s mouth. The host is relaying celebrity news, and it’s the mention of Steve’s name that brings their conversation to a halt. 

Tony only hears a snippet before the channel is suddenly changed, and some country song he’s never heard before is playing over the speakers.

“You don’t want to know what they’re saying about you?” Tony asks. 

Steve shakes his head, “Not particularly. I, uh, decided a while ago that it’s better to be blissfully unaware.”

“So you never pay attention?”

“Not never, no,” Steve says. He stares down on the box as if the bakery’s logo has suddenly become the most fascinating subject in the world. “Sometimes you need to know, and sometimes you just can’t resist the urge to check. But most of the time the story’s either not true or completely blown out of proportion, and the only thing that comes from looking is frustration.”

Tony nods in understanding, and Steve says, “I suppose you’ve got some experience with that, though. Being a Stark and all.”

“Some, sure,” Tony replies. “But most of the stuff about me is from staged shoots. You know, my father wanting to gain some good publicity, pretending to be a family man. It’s not quite the same. I mean, no one really gives a shit what some CEO’s son is buying at the grocery store.”

Steve gives a wry smile, “Stars, they’re just like us, right?”

Tony laughs and reaches for the button to change the station again. He flicks through the channels at a quick pace until Steve says, “Oh, hey, I love this song.”

Tony doesn’t know it, and it’s nothing he would have stopped on normally. It’s slow and the lyrics are a little too romantic for his tastes, but as Steve quietly sings along, fingers drumming out the melody on the bakery box, Tony falls silent and pays close attention to it. 

When the song ends a couple of minutes later, Tony comments, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

Steve’s cheeks turn pink, and his laugh is self-deprecating. “I can’t.”

Tony hums but doesn’t press it further. He lets Steve take control of the radio for the rest of the drive, and even though he claims he can’t sing, he continues to do so under his breath every time he finds a song he likes. 

Tony pulls the car into the underground parking garage of Pepper and Rhodey’s apartment building. Pepper and Rhodey get two reserved spots, but with Rhodey in the Air Force, they only ever use one, so Tony sequestered the other for himself. 

They take the elevator up to the fourth floor, and Tony uses his key to unlock the door. He takes the cake from Steve and puts it in the fridge for now. He takes out his phone, shooting a text to Pepper to tell him that he’s there. He debates mentioning Steve, but settles on saying that he’s brought along a friend to help. 

“So, what are we doing?” Steve asks, clapping his hands together. 

Pepper responds, and Tony reads from her text, “Apparently there’s a bag of decorations in the coat closet, on the floor behind the umbrella stand.”

Steve turns around, searching for the door, and points to the one next to the front door, eyebrows raised in question. Tony nods, and Steve opens it. He pulls out a large paper bag and unpacks the contents out onto the kitchen counter.

Steve frowns down at the pile, “Your friend is an adult, right? I haven’t accidentally been dragged to a child’s birthday party somehow?”

“He’ll be 23 tomorrow,” Tony grins, sifting through the decorations. Pepper really outdid herself this year.

Steve holds up a package. “So why do you have Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle masks?”

“Because a few years ago, I told Pepper and Rhodey that I never got to have birthday parties as a kid,” Tony explains. “My father didn’t care about birthdays and didn’t really like kids in general, and I was so many grades ahead in school that no one was inviting me to theirs because they were a lot older than me. So I’d never been to one at all.”

Steve’s facial expression shows exactly how sad this story is making him, and Tony smiles, “That’s the same look they gave me when they found out, too. Which is why they conspired to give me a Power Rangers themed party for my next birthday. And somehow that turned into kids themed birthday parties for all of us every year, and the only rule is that the birthday person gets no say in what the theme is.”

Tony opens the plastic-wrapped package of masks and takes one out. He ties a blue one around his face, then fans out the rest of the options in front of Steve. “So, do you want to be Donatello, Raphael, or Michelangelo?”

Steve glances between the masks and Tony, a smile forming on his face. “Who’s the red one?”

“Good choice. Raphael is the second best turtle.”

Tony sets down the purple and orange masks, then gestures with his finger for Steve to turn around. Situating the mask on Steve’s face, he ties the ends into a neat bow on the back of his head. 

Steve turns back around, holding his arms out to the side. “Well, how do I look?”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Tony grins. “It’s perfect.”

They make quick work of the decorations, covering the walls of Pepper and Rhodey’s apartment with pictures and banners, including one that has Rhodey’s face printed on it next to the Ninja Turtles that makes Tony laugh so hard he almost starts to cry. There’s even a version of pin the tail on the donkey that requires players to pin a mask on Leonardo that gets hung in the living room. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket as they’re setting out the paper plates and cups on the kitchen island. It’s from Nat -  _ Clint and I are on our way. Be there in five.  _

“Clint and Nat are almost here. They’re bringing the food,” Tony says. “Oh, wait, shit, you eat pizza, right? You’re not on some weird diet that doesn’t let you have anything that actually tastes good?”

Steve laughs, “Not this week, no. I’m not filming anything else for another couple of months, so I can do pizza now.”

Tony rests his elbows on the counter that’s separating him and Steve, considering. “So you’re on a break now?”

“For a while, yeah.”

Tony nods slowly, trying to be casual as he asks, “Are you going back to wherever it is you live, then?”

“I’m thinking about staying in Boston for the time being, actually,” Steve says, leaning forward to rest on his forearms. Their bodies may be separated by the counter, but Steve’s face is close enough that Tony can feel the puffs of air as he speaks. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the blue of his eyes seeming to sparkle as he smiles softly at Tony. “I like it here. The view’s definitely nice.”

“Well, Boston in the fall, what’s not to like?” Tony replies jokingly. 

Steve reaches across the counter and picks up Tony’s hand, lining his hand up with Tony’s so just their fingers are aligned. His thumb brushes along Tony’s knuckles. 

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”

Tony falters only briefly before recovering, “And you read people too well.”

“It’s part of the gig, I suppose,” Steve shrugs.

Tony looks down at their interconnected hands and wonders momentarily if he’s supposed to feel so open on a first date, so vulnerable.

“Compliments aren’t always true.” 

“They are from me,” Steve says simply. 

Tony leans the rest of the way forward, kissing Steve the best he can with the counter digging into his ribs. One of Steve’s hands slips into his hair, while the other hand tightens its hold on Tony’s. 

Tony pulls back after a long minute, laughing after he catches sight of Steve’s face again. “I think the masks are kind of ruining the moment.”

Steve laughs with him, “I didn’t want to say anything, but they definitely are.”

Tony hears a key turning in the lock of the front door and jolts back. Steve frowns for a second, but straightens up once the door opens. 

Nat and Clint are mid-conversation when they walk into the kitchen. Clint deposits the pizza boxes on the space next to Steve without looking at him, and says, “Tony, please tell Nat that hot dogs are not sandwiches.”

“It’s meat between bread,” Nat says. “Therefore, a sandwich.”

“The definition of sandwich is in no way ‘meat between bread,’” Clint argues back. Him and Nat have ended up on opposite ends of the island, placing Tony and Steve in the middle of them.

“The definition of a sandwich is two or more slices of bread or a split roll with a filling in between,” Tony says, mostly to Steve, who smiles. “I know this because we’ve had this argument at least ten times.”

Nat looks at Steve, and if she registers who he is, it doesn’t show on her face. “Hey, new guy, what’s your take? Sandwich or not?”

Tony feels a sharp flare of anxiety, concerned at how Steve is going to react to his friends’ instant insanity, but Steve just says, “I think it qualifies as a taco.”

That sets both Nat and Clint off, united on the same side for once. Tony interrupts their arguing to say, “This is Steve, by the way.”

Clint pauses, stares at Steve in assessment for an uncomfortable amount of time, then his eyes quickly widen. “ _ Oh,  _ so  _ that’s  _ why you made me watch that shitty show.” 

“Oh my God,” Nat mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Who raised you?”

“The same people that raised you,” Clint grins. “No one.”

Nat rolls her eyes, then sticks out her hand toward Steve, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Natasha, and that’s Clint.”

Steve shakes her hand, and for a moment it’s like he’s slipped back into actor mode. He smiles politely and returns the sentiment. Just as quickly as it appears, it disappears, however, leaving them with the guy Tony’s seen throughout the afternoon. Steve falls into easy conversation with Nat and Clint, who are now debating on the definition of a taco, and Tony thinks that the evening ahead of them is looking quite promising. 


	5. Chapter 5

Pepper and Rhodey came back home about five minutes after Clint and Nat arrived. Rhodey burst into laughter the second he sees the theme, immediately demanding a mask for himself. Tony gave him another red one to match him, while Pepper and Nat matched in purple and Clint got orange.

Introducing Steve to them went well, all things considered. There was a brief moment when Pepper almost told Steve that he looks a lot like Steve Rogers, but Tony cut her off just before she could embarrass herself. He could tell that Pepper was freaking out on the inside, but she maintained a calm demeanor on the outside, for which he was extremely grateful. 

Rhodey, on the other hand, didn’t seem to make any connections. It was a little amusing to watch him remain completely stoic, seeming to size Steve up with his gaze. His protective side is always endearing, though unnecessary in this case. Luckily, it didn’t seem to last long, and introductions stayed cursory in favor of gathering around the dining room table to eat the pizza before it can get cold. 

The first part of dinner consists mostly of catching up between Rhodey and everyone else. It’s been almost five months since they were last all in a room together, and there’s a lot of storytelling and quick recaps on everything they’ve missed. 

Steve sits to Tony’s left, his chair tucked in close enough that his leg is pressed against Tony’s beneath the table. Every once and awhile, he drops his hand down onto Tony’s thigh, just above the knee where no one can see. His thumb rubs casual circles into his skin through his jeans while he slowly sips the last remnants of his beer. 

Tony worries at first that Steve will be bored by it or feel left out, but as he watches Steve laugh at Clint’s story of an archery lesson gone terribly wrong, the worry fades away. He fits in with them in a way Tony never would have expected, making jokes and giving quick-witted replies to Clint’s snarky comments like he’s been there all along. 

When the pizza’s gone, Pepper asks Tony about the cake, and the group stands to move into the kitchen for that part. Rhodey puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder before they’re out of the room, looking at Tony as he says, “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Tony sighs, “Seriously, Rhodey?”

Rhodey levels a glare at him in response, though it’s not nearly as menacing as he thinks it is with a Ninja Turtles mask around his eyes.

Steve surprises them both by laughing, “It’s fine, Tony. Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” Tony asks wearily. 

“It’s fine,” Steve repeats, lightly squeezing Tony’s hand. “I can handle what I’m sure is going to be your best friend threatening my life.”

Tony smiles, “I’m sure you can, but you really don’t have to.”

“Oh, no, he’s going to. And it’s much more than death threats,” Rhodey says. 

Steve leans in and presses a quick kiss to Tony’s check, then turns to face Rhodey, who pointedly looks at Tony until he takes the hint and leaves the room with another sigh. 

He walks into the kitchen, where Pepper is digging out a box of candles from a drawer and Clint is playing with a lighter, and says, “Your boyfriend is threatening my date.”

Pepper laughs, “Is anyone surprised?” 

“No,” Tony huffs. “But still. I think I’m past the point of needing this kind of thing. I am a responsible adult now.”

Three sets of eyes look at him with varying states of doubt and amusement. Nat and Pepper manage to be in perfect unison as they ask, “Are you, though?”

“Yes,” Tony says, even though he knows he couldn’t possibly look further from it right now, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout firmly situated on his face. “I have three degrees, I own my own business, and it’s been 23 days since I last accidentally set something on fire.”

“Liar,” Clint says, “I saw you set that popcorn on fire the other day.”

Tony waves it off, “That was a kitchen accident, not a lab accident. It doesn’t count.”

Pepper gives him a look that he knows all too well - one that says  _ why are you like this, Tony?  _ “I think it counts.”

“Fine,” Tony concedes, holding his hands up in surrender, “It’s been four days since I last accidentally set something on fire.”

“That’s concerning,” a voice from behind him says, and a moment later there’s a hand on the small of his back. Tony’s proud of himself for only jumping a little at Steve’s sudden reappearance, and he leans into the touch. 

Rhodey walks by him, putting himself next to Pepper. “Actually, that’s a pretty decent streak for him. We’re all really proud when he makes it to a full week.”

“Remember when he went that full month once?” Nat says wistfully. 

Steve turns his head to look at Tony, a crooked smile on his face. “Are you secretly a pyromaniac? Is this something I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Tony laughs. “My experiments just don’t always agree with me.”

“He’s not very big on fire safety,” Clint says. “Or lab safety in general.”

“Safety precautions are for people who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Steve says, concerned.

“Oh, whatever, let’s just do the candles.”

Pepper puts a couple of candles in the cake, and Clint lights them. Rhodey’s objections to being sung to are ignored by everyone, and one extremely off key rendition of Happy Birthday later, he blows out his candles to the sound of obnoxious cheering. 

As cake is being distributed, Steve excuses himself to go to the bathroom, leaving Tony alone with all his friends for the first time that evening. It doesn’t take long for the inevitable topic of Steve to come up now that he’s out of the room. 

“By the way, when you said you were bringing a ‘friend,’” Pepper says with air quotes and heavy emphasis, “you could have mentioned that it was Steve Rogers.”

Rhodey goes stock-still, mouth gaping, “Wait, that’s Steve  _ Rogers _ ?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. “It kind of just happened, and I didn’t want to mention it and freak anyone out.” 

“Oh, no,” Rhodey whispers. 

“Oh, no?” Tony repeats, eyes widening. “What did you say to him?”

Rhodey slaps his own forehead. “Oh, God, I did not just give a shovel talk to Steve fucking Rogers. Oh, fuck.” 

Tony’s relieved that it’s not actually that bad - it’s not like he didn’t know about the shovel talk and what it generally entails. Rhodey shakes his head slowly, hands on his hips, but when he gets over his shock, he says, “You know what? I stand by it.” 

Tony laughs, “Aw, you’d really kick Captain America’s ass for me? That’s so sweet, honeybear. I’m truly touched.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes, “It’s not like he’s actually Captain America, but even if he was I’d still do it. Captain America’s not that great.”

“What?” Clint questions through a mouthful of cake. “Are you serious right now?”

“Easily a bottom three superhero.”

“By what insane standard?” 

Clint sets his plate down, and Tony can see already that this is going to turn into a legitimate debate. He’s pretty much powerless to stop it once it’s begun, so he doesn’t even bother trying. He just hopes that Steve doesn’t mind debating the relative abilities and powers of his character, or at the very least doesn’t think it’s a dealbreaker. 

“His power is just being really strong,” Rhodey says. “Almost every superhero has that and then some.”

Clint scoffs, “That is not his only power. Have you even read the comics?”

“What are they arguing about?”

Tony does jump this time, hand flying up to his chest. Steve grins, even as Tony admonishes, “Shit, stop doing that.” 

“Sorry,” Steve says unapologetically, but his hand returns to Tony’s hip, so he forgives him anyway. “But what I’d miss?”

“Rhodey thinks Captain America sucks.”

Steve laughs, “Ouch, that’s harsh.”

“Hey, that is not what I said,” Rhodey interjects, pointing his finger at Tony accusingly. “All I’m saying is that compared to all the other superheroes, he’s not that impressive.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Clint says. 

“It’s not blasphemy. He’s not a god,” Rhodey argues. “He’s not even a real captain either. His military credentials are totally fake.”

The discussion continues without them as Steve whispers in Tony’s ear, “Are your friends always like this?”

“Pretty much, yeah. You should’ve seen Nat and Pepper’s debate over who actually deserved to win Bake Off last season.”

Steve frowns, “How could anyone say it shouldn’t have been David?”

“I completely agree,” Tony whispers back, “but I am begging you not to say that in front Pepper. I don’t have the strength to listen to that one again.”

“Would it make it better or worse if I told them that I think Iron Man is the best superhero?”

“Clint’s head might explode,” Tony laughs. “Rhodey will probably agree. Nat will join the argument just to disagree because she likes chaos, and there’s a decent chance Pepper will stab you for stirring the pot.”

“So worse?”

“Definitely worse.”

Steve hums, “Is it bad I kind of want to do it anyway?”

“Or,” Tony says, “we could sneak out of here while no one’s paying attention.”

“That eager to get rid of me, huh?” Steve jokes, but there’s an edge of vulnerability to it that he was probably trying to hide. 

“Who said I was getting rid of you after we leave?” Tony raises an eyebrow. “I was actually thinking we could walk around for a bit. The Common isn’t too far from here, if you’re interested. It shouldn’t be crowded right now.”

“The Common?”

“Yeah, it’s a park. I’ve, uh, always liked it best this time of year,” Tony replies. He feels embarrassment creeping in, worried that Steve won’t like the suggestion. He spirals a bit inside - Steve’s been everywhere, seen everything, he won’t care about a park. It’s a bad suggestion, completely foolish, really, and Tony shouldn’t have - 

But Steve smiles, “I’d like that.”

The internal rambling comes to a grinding halt. “Yeah?”

Steve nods, his face so sincere that Tony couldn’t possibly doubt it, “Yeah, I want you to show me the places you like.” 

Tony should probably feel bad at the speed with which he says his goodbyes to his friends. Pepper hugs him and makes him promise to call her in the morning with all the details. Nat whispers a teasing reminder that he should use protection, then laughs when he groans in reply. Clint’s even worse, asking Tony if he should find another place to crash tonight because his bed springs are loud, and Tony’s thankful Steve is too occupied with a second round of thinly veiled threats from Rhodey to hear it, too. He ignores that question completely, refusing to dignify it with a response. 

He thought that would be the last of it, but Rhodey manages to sneak in one last embarrassment as they’re almost out the door. Thankfully it’s pretty mild. 

“Don’t keep him up too late,” Rhodey calls out. “He has to work in the morning.”

The door shuts behind them, and Tony sighs untying his mask, “Sorry about that.”

Steve takes his hand, threading his fingers with Tony’s like it’s a natural thing for them. He removes his own mask, and it hangs loosely from his free hand. “Don’t be. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“It was nice being somewhere and not feeling like  _ Steve Rogers _ ,” he says it like a curse word, with a slight sneer. “I don’t get that a lot.”

“Well, if there’s one thing my friends are good at it’s knocking down egos,” Tony laughs as they get in the elevator. “They’re not easily swayed by things like fame and fortune.”

“Speaking from experience, I take it?”

Tony nods and takes another stab at total honesty, “I was raised to believe that if you have enough money, you can buy almost anyone’s love and attention. My father lived his life that way, taught me to do the same. But then I met Rhodey and learned pretty quickly that the best people can’t be bought. The best people are the ones who still want you around even after you’ve caused the fire alarm to go off at two am for the fifth time in a month, and the one and only time a photographer shows up on campus to take your picture, they don’t hesitate to tell him to fuck off. And they definitely don’t care that you’re basically a billionaire, because they’ll still tell you to your face when you’re being a dick.”

The elevator doors open, but Steve doesn’t move when Tony does. Tony turns to find Steve staring at him with an expression he doesn’t know how to read, but it’s not the first time he’s seen it today. 

“What?”

“I just -” Steve shakes his head, following Tony out of the elevator now. “I just didn’t expect anything like this.”

Tony smiles, “I’m choosing to believe that you mean I’m exceeding expectations.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of Tony’s hand. It’s all the response he gets, but it’s the only one he needs. 


	6. Chapter 6

Boston Common really is one of Tony’s favorite places this time of year. The leaves have turned gold and red, and the pond that’s always crowded in the summer with families and playing children is now a quiet, peaceful reflecting pool. The number of tourists has gone down with the temperature, leaving mostly just the Bostoners behind. 

They stopped back at Tony’s car briefly before heading to the Common, allowing Steve to grab his hat and sunglasses again. They’re not all that necessary with the sun nearly set and the crowds so low, but he keeps them on anyway. It makes him feel comfortable enough to keep Tony’s hand held tight in his, so Tony’s not about to complain about it. 

“So what’s special about this place?” Steve asks after they’ve entered the park. 

“Do you want the tour guide version or the personal version?”

Steve smiles as he thinks about it. “How about both?”

Tony clears his throat and begins to imitate a tour guide, “Boston Common is the oldest park in the country. The actual date on that is a little fuzzy depending on what source you look at, but technically speaking it became a park sometime in the 1800s. I think I read once that some people try to argue that it’s actually the world’s oldest urban park, too, but I don’t know much about that.”

“Why do you know any of this?” Steve asks. 

Tony shrugs, “Went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole once, and I’ve got an eidetic memory. I can also tell you that cows were formally banned from the park in 1830, there were public executions here for quite a while, and they did a world record for most jack-o’-lanterns simultaneously lit a few years back. And if you want, I could tell you the origin of the jack-o’-lantern, because it’s a pretty interesting one.”

“Please do,” Steve says. 

“So there’s the real origin, which is boring and basically says that people have been using vegetables as lanterns for a long time and then people started using them on Halloween to ward off spirits and it became a whole thing,” Tony explains, using his free hand to gesture animatedly as he talks. “But the better version is an old Irish folktale about this guy named Stingy Jack who tricked the devil a bunch of times so he could live. After the last time, they made a deal that the devil couldn’t take his soul to hell. But then when he actually died, God wouldn’t let him into heaven because he was a sinner, and the devil couldn’t let him into hell, so he was cursed to wander around in the in between with nothing but an ember inside a hollowed out turnip for light. So he was called Jack of the Lantern, thus giving us the jack-o’-lantern.”

“Yeah, that one is a lot better,” Steve grins. They’re approaching a fountain situated in the middle of a small plaza, and Steve juts his chin out toward it, “Got anything for me on that?”

“That is Brewer Fountain,” Tony says as they walk closer. Four figures cast in bronze compose the base of the fountain, and water cascades down from the tiers above it. “It’s a replica of a fountain that was at the World’s Fair in Paris in the 1800s. Brewer saw it and loved it, so he had a copy made and brought here. There’s actually a couple different copies of it around the world.”

Steve nods, thoughtfully gazing at the fountain for a moment before asking, “Are the figures supposed to be anyone in particular?”

“Two of them are Neptune and  Amphitrite, the Roman god and Greek goddess of the sea. The other two are Acis and Galatea. Galatea was a sea-nymph in Greek mythology, and Acis was her lover. Polyphemus killed him out of jealousy, so she turned Acis’s blood into a river.” Tony smiles at Steve and jokes, “Very romantic, isn’t it?”

Steve laughs, “I’ve clearly been slacking in the romance department if I’ve never turned my dead lover into a river.”

“When I get murdered, I fully expect you to do that for me.”

“Wait, what?” Steve questions, giving Tony a bewildered look. “ _ When  _ you get murdered?”

“It’s a strong possibility.”

“I don’t even want to ask why you think that.”

“A wise decision,” Tony says lightly. “On the personal note, by the way, I once got drunk at a party somewhere over here and jumped in this fountain on the way home. I made Clint delete the video, but I think Nat kept it for blackmail purposes. That’s also the story of the first time I had to talk myself out of being arrested.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, “The first time?”

“I live my life out loud, Steven.”

“Oh, God,” Steve says, shaking his head with a vibrant smile. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Tony matches his smiles, and he tugs on Steve’s hand to pull him along the path. “Come on, there’s a lot more to see.”

Leaves crunch under their feet as they walk the path toward the reflecting pool. From the corner of his eye, Tony watches the way Steve takes in the scenery. His sunglasses have been moved to rest on the brim of his hat, and he manages to look flawless even under the bright luminescence of the lampposts that dot the path. His eyes are a little wide, jaw slightly slack as he looks around. When he turns and catches Tony staring, Tony turns a shade of red that matches the trees around them and quickly looks away. 

Tony jumps into an explanation about their next destination, “So, uh, this right here is Frog Pond. I have no idea why it’s called that. They do different things every season. The summer has a spray pool for kids, and in the winter they turn it into an ice skating rink. I went with Nat once, and apparently ballet skills transfer very well into figure skating, because she literally skated circles around me.”

“You can ice skate?” Steve asks. 

“Not very well,” Tony says. He tilts his head up, pointing to a small mark on the underside of his chin. “See this? That’s from when I fell and hit my face on the railing.”

Steve comes closer to get a better look at it, holding Tony’s chin up with one finger. He looks longer than strictly necessary, but Tony certainly doesn’t mind the excuse for contact. 

“Now that’s something you might want to lie about the story for,” Steve smiles, his voice teasing. He doesn’t remove his hand. 

“Nah,” Tony says. “It goes well with the scar on my shoulder from when I fell out of a tree. It happened last year.”

Steve’s eyes are bright with silent laughter, and the unrestrained, open happiness on his face is something Tony thinks he could get used to. Something he thoroughly enjoys being the cause of. Again he tries to remind himself that this is just the first day - he shouldn’t let himself get so consumed so early. But Steve leans in to kiss him once more, and Tony realizes that he’s already lost track of how many times they’ve done this. He falls a little deeper. 

Steve’s thumb traces along his cheekbone as his hand cups Tony’s face. His skin is smooth, a contrast to the callouses that have roughened Tony’s own hands. Steve’s other hand finds Tony’s waist again, wrapping around him and pulling him closer. 

Tony winds his arm around Steve’s shoulders, and his fingers brush against the nape of his neck. His chest is pressed firmly against Steve’s, and it’s the kind of kiss that definitely wouldn’t be appropriate if anyone else was in sight. It’s the kind that has Steve’s hand gradually slipping lower the longer it goes on and leaves the taste of him in Tony’s mouth when he pulls back for air. 

Steve tilts his head down, resting his forehead against Tony’s. Their arms and hands stay right where they are, and the sound of their breathing echoes in Tony’s ears, still loud over the white noise of city traffic.

Tony finds himself not wanting to open his eyes, hardly wanting to move for fear of breaking this moment. Luckily, Steve seems to be feeling the same way. Neither of them speak for a while, and when they do eventually break apart, they don’t go far. 

Steve’s hand slides into the back pocket of Tony’s jeans, and Tony leans into his side as they continue down the path that follows the edge of the reflecting pool. The hard line of Steve’s body is warm against him, keeping away the chill of the autumn air. 

The carousel sits at the far end of the reflecting pool from where they came, and Tony draws Steve’s attention to it.

“That is the only carousel I’ve ever been on,” he says. “Rhodey’s family came to visit a couple of years ago, and I stole Rhodey’s niece so I could go on, too. Apparently people think it’s weird for an adult to go on a carousel alone.”

“Wow, I wonder why,” Steve says sarcastically. 

“It’s truly a mystery,” Tony sighs, then he adds, “I hated it, by the way.”

“Why?”

“She made me go on ten times in a row. It was only fun for the first two. I also might have been dizzy enough after that I stumbled right into a bush, but there’s no proof of that.”

Steve laughs, “I really wish there was some proof. I think I’d pay good money to see that video.”

“Stick around long enough, and I’ll embarrass myself in front of you free of charge. Oh, wait, I’ve already done that.”

“And it wasn’t really free, was it?” Steve muses. “My shirt paid the price.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my coffee also paid for it.” 

They turn down another path, leading away from the reflecting pool and toward one of the other landmarks. The park is full of statues, monuments, and memorials, though Tony isn’t planning on taking Steve to all of them. If he’s reading the situation right - and please let him be reading it right, he thinks - this should probably be the last one before they either end up back at Steve’s hotel room or in Tony’s apartment. 

Before they reach the next one Steve says, “So I’ve got a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

Steve hesitates a little, “Your parents. You’ve sort of talked about them, your dad, at least. But what about your mom?”

“What about her?”

“Well, I get the impression that your relationship with your dad is maybe not the best, but are you close with her?”

Tony smiles wryly, “Going for the hard hitting questions already, huh?

“You don’t have to answer,” Steve says quickly, interpreting Tony’s answer to be more serious than it was. “I was just curious.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony says with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t say that we’re close exactly. I mean, I’m definitely closer with her than with my father, but that’s not hard to do. You probably know more about me after today than my father’s learned in a lifetime. 

“I think that some people just weren’t meant to be parents, and I think you could say that about both of them. I think she knows she’s not very good at it, but she still tries, sometimes. She just misses the mark more times than not. It doesn’t help that she’s under the impression that my father and I argue for fun.”

Steve frowns, “Why would you do that?”

Tony shrugs, “Because my father argues with everyone for fun, and she seems to think we’re the same. We apparently push each other’s buttons on purpose, and we’d get along just fine if we stopped doing that.”

“Do you push them on purpose?”

“Sometimes,” Tony admits. “Sometimes I should probably just let things go, because saying something only ever makes it worse. But there isn’t a reality where we would get along, anyway.”

“Why is that?” 

“Oh, God, I’m starting to feel like I’m in therapy right now,” Tony laughs.

“Sorry,” Steve says. Even in the dim lighting Tony can tell his face is red. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on a first date. I might’ve forgotten how to do them.” 

“First of all, I thought we agreed that this was technically a second date by now. You’ve already successfully completed the first one. Congratulations,” Tony grins. “Second, it wasn’t a complaint. If anything, it’s more of an observation on the state of my personal life that talking about my family sounds like a therapy session. Most people could probably talk about if they’re close with their parents without it being that way, but hey, I’ve never been average.”

“Is this the second?” Steve questions. “I think an argument could be made that it’s actually the third.”

That gives Tony an idea, and he stops walking, making Steve stop with him. Wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist, he presses himself fully against Steve’s body. 

“You should definitely make that argument.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, but the look on his face suggests that he’s following the same line of thought as Tony right now, “And why’s that?”

Tony smiles slyly, running his hand down Steve’s chest. His fingertips brush the strip of bare skin above Steve’s collar in a hint of what’s to come. “Because if it’s the third, that means it’s socially acceptable for me to ask you to come back to my place.”

Steve’s response is quick. 

“Photoshoot was one, the bakery trip was two, the party was three, so that actually means this is number four.”

“Damn, looks like we’re behind,” Tony sighs, pretending to be dismayed by it. “Guess you’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.”

Steve grins, “Guess I will.”


	7. Chapter 7

After that first day, Steve is a fixture in Tony’s life. It’s easy with him. Easy to watch movies on the couch and cook dinner together in Tony’s small kitchen. Even easier to order pizza when they inevitably burn dinner and laugh as they scrub the blackened pots and pans in the sink. Easy to fall asleep with his head on Steve’s chest, though sometimes it’s Steve’s chest against his back instead, but either way he’s held tight in Steve’s arms. 

He doesn’t know how many dates they’ve had at this point. They stopped counting dates and started counting weeks instead. It was more than he could have hoped for when the weeks turned into a month. Absolutely incredible when one month turned into two. 

They’ve managed to keep things just between the two of them, with the obvious exception of Tony’s friends, who have sworn themselves to secrecy. It’s hard work, though, to maintain the secret. Steve flew to New York once just to let himself be spotted there, then drove himself back to Boston the next day. He switches hotels every week, gives himself a new name every time. 

Public dates are kept to a minimum, though they do still happen. Not every date can be in Tony’s living room or Steve’s hotel suite. It stings more than he liked to admit every time Steve pulls his hand away while they’re out together. He resents the polite distance between their bodies when they walk around town and the strategic entrances and exits from buildings. They arrive places at different times, leave separately, and take different routes back to wherever they’re staying that night. 

The media still seems to believe that they’re nothing more than friends, even though Tony’s positive he’s never once looked at Rhodey in the way he’s looking at Steve on the cover of Us Weekly. But it’s not so much paparazzi shots that they’re concerned with as it is being spotted by fans. It happens more than they’d like, but they never see anything they shouldn’t, and they’re quick with a cover story for anyone that asks. 

Steve tells one inquiring fan that interrupted a restaurant date that they’re distant cousins. Another is told that Tony is his new assistant. (They use it as roleplay later that night, so he can’t feel too bad about that one.) He’s only allowed to create the story once, getting himself promptly banned from it after he tells the girl that he’s Steve sponsor for sex addiction counseling. Steve found it too funny to actually be mad at him for that one, and the girl was too confused to take it seriously. 

Today, Tony wakes up with his face pressed into the side of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s fingers are drawing absentminded patterns into the bare skin of his back. They move slowly down his spine, circle around his tailbone, then swirl across his left side. He doesn’t want to be awake just yet, wanting instead to stay in the hazy in between for a little longer. 

His senses come to life slowly. A deep breath brings the smell of fresh laundry and a hint of Steve’s cologne from last night. Through his still closed eyelids, he can tell that the curtains have been opened, though maybe they were never shut to begin with. His own heartbeat reverberates in his ear from where it’s squished into the pillow, sounding somewhat like the ocean. 

He isn’t expecting the gentle drag of Steve’s thumb along his jawline, but the touch is welcome nonetheless. Steve’s voice is rough with sleep as he whispers, “I know you’re awake, sweetheart.”

Tony smiles against Steve’s skin. “‘m not awake. Still sleeping, shh.”

“You talk in your sleep now, huh? That’s new,” Steve says. “I suppose it’s better than the snoring you usually do.”

“I do not snore, you asshole.”

“Why does everyone always say that? Why is no one on earth willing to admit that they snore?” Steve questions. 

“I’d admit it if it was true, but it’s a baseless allegation, and, quite frankly, could be considered slander.”

Steve laughs, and Tony’s still not quite used to the fact that he gets to hear that sound more than anyone else does these days. Causes it more than anyone else, too. 

“By all means, take me to court for it, darling.”

Another thing Tony isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to: terms of endearment. Tony’s always been one for nicknames, giving them freely enough that he’s been accused of forgetting people’s actual names before, but being on the receiving end still leaves him flustered sometimes, especially when they’re coming from Steve. 

“I will,” Tony says. “Just you wait.”

Steve hums, and his thumb slides along Tony’s jaw again. One of his fingers is resting against a small mark he left below his ear the other day, and Steve presses down on it just hard enough for Tony to feel the echo of his mouth on him. It makes him squirm in Steve’s hold, involuntarily shifting his hips forward until he’s pressed full bodily against Steve. 

“What time do you have to be at the store?” Steve asks, voice low in Tony’s ear. The implication of the question is enough to make his heart rate quicken. 

“Pepper’s opening,” he says, and Steve rightfully takes it as permission to slip his hand beneath the waistband of Tony’s boxers. He sighs at the featherlight graze of the pad of Steve’s thumb against his rim, still a little loose from the night before. “I’ve got nowhere to be until this afternoon.”

His eyes are still closed, but he can hear the opening of the drawer in the side table and Steve shuffling through the contents. Tony moves on the bed, stretching his arms out above his head as he lays flat on his back next to Steve. Steve’s hand is a little cold when it touches his knee and spreads his legs apart to settle between them. 

Steve’s mouth starts on his throat, tongue sliding along the column before dipping into the hollow at the base. He opens his eyes to the sight of blond hair falling forward to drift across his chest as Steve moves further down his body. His breath catches in his throat at the feeling of Steve’s mouth closing around his nipple, teeth scraping gently in just the way he knows Tony likes. 

It didn’t take long for them to become acquainted with each other’s bodies. To learn all the little things that the other likes. Tony knows that Steve likes the feeling of fingernails in his shoulders and the sharp tugs on his hair that Tony delivers when the pleasure’s especially good, just like Steve knows that Tony’s navel is strangely sensitive and that he prefers the slow, sweet mornings over the rougher passion of the nights, though he won’t admit it himself. 

Steve looks up at him, his chin planted in the space beneath Tony’s ribs, and his eyes are a brilliant shade of cerulean in the early daylight. Tony runs a gentle hand through his hair, smoothing it back off his forehead. It’s gotten longer in the last couple of months, and Tony loves it. Steve turns his head, kisses the palm of Tony’s hand with a tenderness that reminds him exactly why the mornings are his favorites. 

They don’t need any words for a long while. Steve’s lips reattach themselves to Tony’s skin, sucking marks into the spaces only they’ll be able to see again. They layer over older ones, some from weeks ago, some from just yesterday. There’s a possessiveness to it that Tony wouldn’t have expected from him, but he finds endearing all the same. 

Gentle kisses are placed along the fingertip shaped bruises on his hips like soft apologies. Tony lets his eyes fall shut again, head tilted back into the pillows when Steve’s mouth ghosts over his fabric covered erection, touching him with barely more than his breath. 

His thighs are pulled further apart with adoring hands, and the trail of Steve’s lips continues lower. He returns up his other thigh, then sits back on his heels to pull Tony’s boxers off. Tony lifts his hips to make it easier, kicking the boxers off to the floor. Steve does the same with his own underwear before covering Tony’s body with his. 

Tony tangles his hand in Steve’s hair, pulling him down. Steve goes willingly and obliges Tony’s unspoken request for a kiss that leaves him breathless. 

At some point during the kiss, Steve must have grabbed the lube that he retrieved earlier. A wet finger circles his entrance, a brief warning before it slips inside of him, and Tony sighs against Steve’s lips. 

He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders to hold him close, and his knees fall to the side to rest against the mattress. Steve’s lips stay on him as his fingers work between his legs to spread him open, painting his cheeks, forehead, nose, and anywhere else he can reach with affection. 

Steve twists his wrist and hits his mark perfectly, making Tony’s hips jolt up. Steve groans when they meet his with the sweetest of friction. He does it over and over until Tony is a shaking, quivering puddle on the mattress. 

“Baby, please,” he whimpers, breaking off with a gasp as Steve rubs against his prostate one more time. 

“Please what?” Steve asks, still teasing even though Tony can tell from his voice that he’s growing desperate, too. 

“I want you.”

Steve smiles, hair falling into his face as he pulls back to look at Tony. “You have me.”

By some miracle that’s true, and it makes Tony smile back. He adopts Steve’s teasing tone, “Any chance I can also have you inside of me some time soon?”

“Maybe if you ask me nicely.”

Tony laughs, “I already did. There was a please and everything.”

Steve brushes his lips along Tony’s jawline, stopping by his ear to murmur, “I suppose you’re right. You did say please.”

He hears the click of the cap on the lube, and Steve leans back again to squeeze some into his hand. They stopped using condoms a while ago, when it became clear that there was no one else for either of them anymore. Steve slicks himself with the lube and wipes his hand clean on his discarded boxers. 

He takes himself in hand and watches Tony’s face as he pushes the head in. It’s always more than Tony remembers, and he bites his lip to hold back the groan. He wants the slight burn that comes with Steve opening him up on his cock, when he isn’t fully stretched on his fingers. 

Wrapping one leg around Steve’s waist, he pushes his heel into the small of his back to encourage him forward. He complies, albeit slowly, and pauses once he’s bottomed out. His breath comes in quick puffs against Tony’s shoulder, and Tony threads his fingers through Steve’s hair once more. 

He doesn’t have to tell Steve when he’s ready for him to move. Steve can read his body, knows all of his tells. When the furrow between his brows lessens, and he pulls his lip between his teeth with closed eyes, Steve starts up the slow movement of his hips. His cock drags along his inner walls, each thrust deep and unhurried. 

It stays slow until Tony can’t take it any longer. “Faster, please. Need more.”

Leaning back, Steve slips his hand under Tony’s back to change the angle. He plants the other hand on the mattress next to Tony’s head, and Tony grips his forearm as he speeds up. His movements are more shallow, faster and harder, and he adjusts the angle continuously until he finds the one that makes Tony moan his name. 

He tries to remember to keep quiet. Clint might be awake in the other room, and the last thing he wants today is another lecture about how thin the walls are. But it’s hard to do when every thrust is hitting him just right, lighting up sparks behind his eyelids. 

“Want me to touch you, baby?” Steve asks. He always asks, and Tony loves him for it, even if they haven’t said those words to each other just yet. But he thinks it more intensely with every second.

Tony shakes his head. He wants to come just like this, with Steve surrounding him with comfort and safety and nothing but the pleasure from where their bodies are joined to push him over the edge. Steve moves a little faster again, because he wants that, too. 

His thighs are trembling where they’re clenched around Steve, and he knows Steve’s shoulder is going to be covered in red marks by the end. Later in the shower he’ll press a soothing kiss to the crescent shapes, and Steve will smile because of it. But for now he digs in a bit harder, and Steve gets the message that he’s close. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs. “You’re so beautiful like this. Could watch you like this all day.”

Tony whines, high-pitched and needy sounding, and Steve continues, “Maybe I should keep you on edge for a while, until you’re begging for it. Would you beg for me, baby?”

He would, definitely has before, but Steve isn’t expecting an actual answer. 

“Not today, though,” Steve sighs. He shifts his weight to free one of his hands and cups Tony’s cheek with it. His thumb skims over Tony’s bottom lip. “Open your eyes, honey. Keep ‘em on me.”

Tony does, and the desire he finds in Steve’s is overwhelming. It doesn’t take much longer for him to reach his peak, and it takes an effort not to close his eyes again as he comes. But he keeps his eyes locked with Steve’s as fire spreads through his veins and wet warmth coats his skin. 

Steve talks him through it, though he doesn’t process any of the actual words. It’s a soft murmur of reassurance, and when Tony recovers from his own high he’s able to return the words to help Steve reach his. 

“God, baby, you make me feel incredible.” 

Steve’s hips stutter in their rhythm. 

“Always make me feel so fucking good.”

The hand on his ass tightens its grip. He knows just what to say to push him the rest of the way. The words are a little stilted as his oversensitivity makes his breath catch. 

“Never had anyone make me feel this good before, baby.”

Two more thrusts, and Steve is burying himself as deep as he possibly can. He tips down, head falling onto Tony’s chest as he draws out his orgasm. 

Tony strokes through his sweaty hair, holding him close as he comes back down. Most of Steve’s weight is on him, but he doesn’t mind at all. It’s a comforting presence, rather than restricting. 

They stay like that for a while, long after it stops being a comfortable position. His legs feel stiff, and his stomach is sticky, but he keeps carding his hand through Steve’s hair and listens to his breathing gradually return to normal. 

Steve moves first, brushing his lips across Tony’s collar bone as he pushes himself back up on slightly shaky arms. His skin is flushed, shining with a thin layer of sweat, and his hair is sticking straight up. Tony swears he’s never looked better. 

Tony rises up on his elbows, glances over at the clock on the nightstand, and says, “You’ve got me for another four hours. What are you going to do with me?”

Steve grins, eyes sweeping across Tony’s naked form, “How many more times do you think I can make you come before you cry?”

“I don’t know, but we can find out.”


	8. Chapter 8

“This doesn’t seem safe,” Tony says, knuckles turning white from the way his hands are wrapped so tightly around the base of the ladder that Steve is currently perched on. 

Steve laughs as he continues hanging the Christmas lights. The strands cascade down from the top of Tony’s building, falling over the side of his apartment and down over the windows of the bookstore like a waterfall of white lights. He’s never done much in terms of Christmas decorations before, but the excitement on Steve’s face when he thought of it was impossible to reject. He doesn’t know where the hell he’s going to store all of it when the season is over, but that’s a problem for the future. For now, he’s just trying not to stare too obviously at Steve’s ass while he stands below him. 

“I think it’s fine,” Steve says. “It only wobbles a little.”

“And my friends say I’m the one with no regard for my personal safety. They clearly don’t know you very well.”

Another string of lights is lowered from the top of the building, and the bulbs click against the windows. 

“The only way I’m going to get hurt is if you decide to let go of the ladder.”

“I can identify at least ten other possible scenarios off the top of my head,” Tony replies flatly. “Would you care to hear them?”

“You know what? I actually would, but only because I don’t believe that you have ten.”

“Number one, an aneurysm you didn’t know you had suddenly bursts in your brain. You lose consciousness, fall, and smash your head on the concrete. You might have had a chance at surviving the aneurysm if you were safely on the ground right now, but you’re not.”

“Jesus, that’s number one?” Steve laughs. “I take it back, you’ve definitely got more than ten. Sometimes I forget just how creative you can get with worst case scenarios.”

“I think I’m up to fifteen now.”

Steve comes down the ladder slowly, having hung lights as far as his arms could reach. He’s been up and down multiple times, and even though the temperature is in the thirties, there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his face from the physical labor. 

Tony wants nothing more than to kiss the smile on his face, but he can’t. Too public, too many people on the sidewalks around them. It makes his chest hurt with an all too familiar ache. He bites his lip to hold back the comment he wants to make on it. This isn’t the place for that conversation. 

Steve notices the shift in his mood anyway, and he knows Tony well enough by now to know what’s caused it. 

“Later,” Steve says. 

‘Later’ is the response he’s received every time. Tony’s growing sick of the word and hates the way the pit in his stomach grows a little bit every time he hears it. But he’s trying to maintain his patience. Trying to remember that coming out isn’t easy for anyone, let alone someone with so many eyes on them. Trying to remind himself that Steve was always upfront about this, that he knew from the start that they wouldn’t be able to be publicly dating. He agreed to the terms and conditions, checked that little box off on day one. 

But back then he thought that meant they were waiting until it was serious. For Tony, it’s been serious for a long time. Every sign so far from Steve would point to him believing it’s serious, too. He could handle the wait, he thinks, if he just knew what he was waiting for. But apparently all he’ll ever get is ‘later.’ What if later actually means never?

He swallows down the burn in his throat that the thought delivers. 

Steve reaches a hand out, squeezing Tony’s arm just above the elbow. Then he takes a step back like one second of contact has burned him and does what he does best: changes the subject.

“How come you’ve never done this before?” he asks, gesturing to the boxes of lights stacked around them. 

Tony changes the position of the ladder, shifting it over a few feet. “I’ve never been that into Christmas. I didn’t even realize you were supposed to spend the day with your family until I met Rhodey. Kinda thought TV shows were making that up.”

“I always spent it with my mom,” Steve says, voice a little tight as he climbs back up the ladder. 

Tony waits for him to say more. He doesn’t share much about life, which Tony thought was strange at first. Tony’s been an open book from the beginning, but Steve reveals himself in little bits and pieces. He’s learned to just wait and listen when Steve chooses to share. 

“She, uh, she died when I was 18. It was a couple months before Christmas.” Another pause as Steve unravels another strand. “I basically stopped celebrating after that. I mean, I’d go with Sharon to visit her family if we were together, and Bucky always invited me to his when we weren’t. But it never felt the same. It never stopped feeling like I was a guest in someone else’s tradition.”

That’s when Tony realizes that they’re doing more than hanging lights right now. It’s their own tradition they’re creating. A new beginning for both of them.

The pit in his stomach disappears for now, replaced by a warmth that he can feel throughout his body.

“What did you used to do?” Tony asks. “With your mom, I mean.”

Steve shrugs, “Normal stuff, I guess. Christmas movies, hot chocolate, presents in our pajamas, midnight mass.”

Tony makes a face even though Steve can’t see it, “I was all for it until you said midnight mass. People actually do that?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “I grew up Catholic. We went every year.”

“Well, I’m game for doing everything else with you, but if you drag me to a church in the middle of the night I’ll have no choice but to kill you.”

“Lucky for both of us I haven’t actually gone since I was teenager.”

“Crisis of faith or not much to begin with?”

“Just didn’t see much of a point after my mom died. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe. I just never cared much for the whole show of it.”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet and watches another strand fall down. A minute later, Steve runs out of room again and comes back down. Tony moves the ladder over again, and the process repeats itself until the front of the building is covered with white lights, save for the gap for the door. Steve plugs the last strand into the socket that’s on the side of the building, then comes to stand next to Tony. There’s still enough daylight that the effect is lost a little, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. 

“Pepper’s going to love this,” Tony comments. “She’s always said we should have lights.”

“We’re putting stuff inside the store, too, right?”

Tony raises an eyebrow, “Are we?”

“Well,” Steve smiles, “we’ve got more lights, and you’ve got quite a shelves we could hang them from.”

“What else did you get?” Tony asks, because he just knows from the look on Steve’s face that there’s more. He went shopping for it by himself while Tony was working the closing shift, and there were definitely more bags in the trunk of Tony’s car than what would have held just the lights. 

“Not a lot.”

Tony gives him a look that says  _ I don’t believe you at all.  _

“It’s not,” Steve laughs. “Just a few things.”

Tony shakes his head, still not quite believing him. They walk around to the back of the building where Tony’s car is parked to retrieve the rest of the bags and bring them inside. He pops the trunk, eyeing the bags, and says, “What’s your definition of ‘a few?’” 

“It might be more than a few,” Steve admits. He does a quick glance around to confirm that they’re truly alone, then puts his hands on Tony’s hips. “But c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Tony sighs fondly, then kisses the pink on Steve’s cheek to watch it spread. “Fine, but don’t be surprised when I make it look terrible by accident.”

Steve gives him a soft kiss, smiling as he says, “I’ve got faith in you.”

“You’ll regret that,” Tony says as he takes a couple of bags from the car. “But I appreciate it anyway.” 

They take the bags in through the back door of the building, and Tony lets Steve take the lead on decoration placement. He seems to have a vision in mind, the creative gears visibly turning as he looks at the space. Tony’s never quite gotten to see this side of him before. It’s what he must be like when he’s working, and he recognizes the look of focus from his own face when he’s engineering. 

Tony gets caught staring with an unabashedly enamored expression on his face, and Steve pauses where he’s draping a garland over the top of a bookshelf, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tony shrugs with feigned casualness. “You’re cute right now.”

For someone who receives so many compliments from an abundance of people, Steve still gets adorably embarrassed when they come from Tony. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles, adjusting the way the garland is hanging down the side of the shelf, and Tony grins. 

He leans forward on the counter, chin resting in his hand as he watches Steve move onto the next set of decorations now that the garlands are done. The shelves are alternating with blankets of fake snow and garlands, each accompanied by a short set of battery operated lights. Tony isn’t even maintaining the illusion of being helpful in the actual decorating anymore, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind that his version of help was turning on the radio to a Christmas station and singing along with the wrong words. 

“We should put a tree up in the apartment,” Tony says, suddenly inspired by a lyric in one of the songs. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Seriously? Not even when you were a kid?”

Tony shakes his head, “I mean, we always had a tree. It was like 20 feet tall and had all those glass ball ornaments on it, but we never did it ourselves. My mom always hired people to do it.”

“Mine always had homemade ornaments,” Steve says. “You know the ones that you make at school? My mom loved those.”

“Uh, I think I must have skipped those grades.”

“Really?” Steve frowns. “You never made any?”

“Not that I remember. But it doesn’t matter, they would’ve just been thrown out immediately anyway if I had,” Tony says, tossing the notion away with a wave of his hand.

“Your mom didn’t keep those kinds of things?”

“No, but like I said, I didn’t really do those kinds of things to begin with. Why? What’d yours keep?”

“She kept everything. Drawings, report cards, participation trophies for sports I played. When I was cleaning out the apartment after she passed, I even found my baby teeth in a little box.”

“I can’t decide if that’s sweet or creepy.”

Steve laughs, “It’s a pretty even split for me, too. I really didn’t know what to do with a box of my own teeth.”

“You probably could have sold them for a ton of money.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, “I hate that that’s true.”

He takes a decent size wreath out of one of the larger bags, holding it out in front of him as if to assess it before making a decision on where it will go. It’s the last of the items, the finishing touch. 

When he makes up his mind, he tosses a pack of adhesive hooks towards Tony. “Can you put one of those up on that wall?” he asks, gesturing to the space behind Tony. 

Tony takes one out and hovers the adhesive piece over a spot on the wall, then turns to Steve, “Here?”

“A little higher.”

“Good?”

“More to the left.”

He looks over his shoulder for confirmation, placing it when Steve nods. Coming around to the other side of the counter, Steve carefully hangs the wreath and corrects it when it tilts a bit unevenly. 

Steve puts his hands on his hips and smiles, “Well, what do you think?”

Tony leans over, kissing Steve’s cheek, “It’s perfect.”


	9. Chapter 9

The bar is fairly empty, even for a Thursday at seven pm. It’s just Steve, Tony, and a couple of middle-aged people sitting by themselves who don’t even look up when they walk in. The lack of crowd should make Steve feel more relaxed, but instead it seems to have put him on edge. Everything they do seems to have that effect these days. 

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, setting down his whisky. 

They’re at a booth in the back of the bar, with no one within a ten foot radius. No one could have possibly heard the quiet question, but Steve looks over his shoulder anyway. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tony hums noncommittally and takes another sip. “You don’t seem fine, is the thing. You seem like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“No,” Steve says quickly. He makes a move like he’s about to reach for Tony’s hand, which is resting on the table, then thinks better of it. “I want to be with you.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Steve shakes his head, “It’ll be fine. You know, when there’s more people.”

“I don’t think I know,” Tony replies, eyebrows knitting together. 

“We’re not exactly blending into the crowd right now,” he replies, gesturing to the open room around them. “And I know for a fact that the bartender has looked over here at least four times in the ten minutes we’ve been here.”

“Oh, Thor? He’s not a problem, don’t worry about it.”

Steve frowns, “You know him?”

“Nat dated him for a while. He’s loud and brash sometimes, but he usually knows when to be discreet,” Tony reassures. “Plus, he’s from Norway and doesn’t know anything about American celebrities. There’s not a chance in hell that he recognizes you.”

Steve seems to loosen up a bit, and the tension from his shoulders releases. It’s not gone completely, never can be when they’re out together, but it’s definitely an improvement. 

“How long were they together?”

“A few months, maybe. I think it was more of a fling than anything,” Tony says. “If you ever want to be completely disgusted, ask Nat about the thing he can do with tongue, and she’ll go into very graphic detail.”

“Oh, God,” Steve laughs, and it’s a relief to hear it. 

“Thor will also give you a lesson, if you want.”

Steve looks horrified, “Excuse me?”

Tony shrugs, “He’s pretty much shameless. It might have been the only thing they had in common.”

“Hence the breakup, then.”

“Hence the breakup indeed,” Tony nods. “But he’s a pretty cool dude. Word to the wise, though, never play a drinking game with him. I made that mistake only once and ended up hammered while he was acting completely sober somehow. Worst hangover of my entire life.”

Steve smiles, “Worse than last weekend?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Tony groans. 

Last weekend they watched  _ Mystery High  _ with Clint and turned it into a drinking game. They took shots every time someone died, someone kissed someone they shouldn’t have, and a bunch of other rules they made up along the way. It was fun to see Steve make fun of himself, even more fun when they were all ridiculously drunk. The next day, however, had them all feeling like death warmed over. The two of them spent the day in Tony’s bed, sleeping late and holding each other in the curtain-filtered light. It wasn’t his worst ever hangover, if only because Steve was there to make it better. 

“Hey, so are you going to be busy next October?” Tony asks. 

“I have no clue. Why?”

“Pepper has decided she wants a fall wedding.”

“What? She’s not even engaged.”

“You and I know that, yes,” Tony says, nodding. “She says she will be by the end of the year. Pretty sure she’s already decided on her color scheme.”

“And what does Rhodey say?” 

“Rhodey is also unaware of this.”

Steve frowns, “I'm very confused.”

“We’re tricking Rhodey into thinking proposing was his own idea. It involves a lot of subliminal messaging and subtle hints. There’s a whole plan. And a group chat.”

Steve laughs, “Who the hell is in this group chat?”

“It’s me, Nat, Clint, Pepper, and Rhodey’s mom,” Tony lists. “We’ve been working on it for a few months now. I’m honestly giving up hope because Rhodey is just so fucking oblivious. 

“A couple weeks ago I said that Pepper would look good in white, and he said that it stains too easily. Three days ago Nat texted him a picture of an engagement ring, and he asked if she meant to send that to someone else. I’m pretty sure I could flat out tell him he should propose, and he would miss that hint, too.”

“Maybe he knows about it but just doesn’t want to get married,” Steve suggests.

“Two months ago when he was here on leave, he had two shots and started crying about how much he loves her. I’m talking full on sobbing. We had to leave the bar because he couldn’t stop talking about how pretty and smart and nice she is.” 

“So he’s just dumb.”

“So incredibly dumb,” Tony confirms solemnly. “But anyway, October. What are you doing?”

“Are you asking me to be your date to a wedding that’s almost a year away for a couple that’s not even engaged yet?”

“Yes.”

Steve smiles at first, but it starts to fade and Tony can see his hesitation. “That’s a little public, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but like you said, it’s almost a year away,” Tony says, keeping his tone neutral. 

Steve nods slowly, then takes a long drink. It feels like an eternity has passed before he finally says, “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay, that’s - yeah. I get that.”

He doesn’t quite get that, but he’ll pretend the near rejection doesn’t sting. He’ll pretend it isn’t happening more and more lately, every time he brings up something about the future. 

Steve offers a small, grateful smile, then reverts the subject back a minute. “What if you did just flat out tell him he should propose?”

Tony sighs, “We’re trying not to go that route. We want him to think it was his own idea, and if I tell him to do it then it’s mine. His mom is thinking of buying a ring herself and telling him it’s a family heirloom.”

“That’s drastic,” Steve laughs. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Wouldn’t he know it wasn’t an heirloom?”

“Haven’t we already established that he’s a little dumb?” Tony counters. 

Steve concedes, “That’s true. Can’t say I’d know the difference myself if my mom was still around and said that to me.”

They go back and forth on different tactics they could use for a while. The majority of them get rejected, some of them have already been used and failed, but they spend most of the time laughing. At some point, the bar around them does fill up a little more, until they are actually blending into the crowd. 

Tony doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten until he gets a text from Clint that says  _ sock.  _

“Looks like we’re going back to yours tonight,” he tells Steve, who raises an eyebrow in question. “Clint brought someone home. We’ve been sexiled.”

It’s less about Clint having someone there than it is about that someone possibly recognizing Steve tomorrow morning. A few weeks after they started dating, Clint brought someone home without the warning, and the morning after was very awkward when Steve panicked and ran into the bathroom to avoid being seen. 

“Wanna go now?” Steve asks. Tony nods, finishes the last of his drink, and stands from the booth. 

They keep at least six inches between them as they walk down the sidewalk toward Steve’s hotel. Steve’s hands are buried in his pockets, and Tony does the same. To anyone else they would look like acquaintances, not even friends. 

“So I have to leave for Australia pretty soon,” Steve says after they’ve walked a block in silence.

“Australia? What for?”

“I’ve got a shoot. Should take maybe seven or eight weeks.”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly. “What does that mean for us?”

“I’ll come back when I can.”

It’s not much of an answer, and Tony asks, “And how soon is soon?”

“Beginning of January. I’ll be around for Christmas and New Year’s, but then I have to go. I know it sucks, but I promise I’ll call you whenever I can.”

“Okay,” Tony repeats for lack of anything else to say. What is there to say when someone tells you they’re taking your heart to the other side of the world? 

Steve tells him a bit about the movie he’s filming. Some sort of action flick that requires a lot of stunt men, but he keeps most of the details underwraps. 

They end up back at the hotel, and Tony knows the drill by now for when they get there. Steve goes up first, while Tony waits a bit down the street. He leans against the brick wall of a storefront and pulls out his phone, absentmindedly scrolling through his emails until a few minutes have gone by. 

Steve is waiting for him outside the elevator on his floor. He gives Tony a soft smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Tony grins. It’s always better in private. 

Steve holds his hand on the short walk to the door of his suite, only dropping it to dig his key out his pocket. 

The light is already on when he opens the door, and Tony’s about to make a joke about the waste of electricity when he hears Steve choke out, “Sharon.”

Tony didn’t notice her at first, but there’s Sharon Carter standing up from the couch on the far side of the room. She looks flawless, like she’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, and she doesn’t even spare Tony a glance as she smiles at Steve. 

“Hi, Steve,” she says softly, a touch tentative. 

Steve takes a couple steps forward, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” Sharon says. “I asked Sam where you were, and he told me you were working on a project in Boston.”

Tony doesn’t know much about Sam, only that he’s been Steve’s manager since the beginning of his career.  _ A project,  _ Tony’s mind replays. Does Sam know what’s really happening and lied to Sharon for Steve? Or did Steve lie to him in the first place?

Steve glances back at Tony for just a second, then says to Sharon, “Yeah, I am.”

“I missed you,” she says, quietly enough that Tony almost doesn’t catch it. It’s clearly only meant for Steve to hear. 

He watches as the distance between them suddenly disappears and her arms go around his shoulders. Steve’s hands seem to find her hips automatically. A strangled sound escapes him when she kisses Steve. 

Steve lets it happen for longer than he should. 

Sharon finally notices his presence when it ends. She’s surprised for a moment, then says, “Oh, hi, I’m Sharon. Steve’s girlfriend.”

Steve looks like he wishes the floor would swallow him whole. He takes a step away from Sharon, her arms falling from his shoulders. 

“Sorry, this is Tony,” Steve tells her. No hesitation before he twists the knife in Tony’s chest. “He’s a friend.”

“Right, a friend,” Tony says, forcing down the bile building up in his throat to appear casual. His smile is so fake that it hurts. “It’s nice to meet you, but I should get going. Leave you to it.”

Tony turns on his heel, eyes burning already. He just wants to make it to the elevator, refuses to let them fall here. He doesn’t get that luxury. 

“Tony, wait,” Steve calls out. The hotel room door shuts behind him, and his hand is on Tony’s elbow a second later. “Please wait a second.”

Tony stops, turning back around to see Steve. He cuts right to the chase, “I thought you broke up.”

“We did,” Steve says quickly. “It’s just - it’s complicated with her. I really didn’t think we were getting back together this time. I didn’t expect her to come back.”

“She called herself your girlfriend.” Steve’s shoulders fall, and before he can answer Tony says, “You called me a friend.”

“I couldn’t tell her the truth. She doesn’t -” Steve breaks off, looking over his shoulder to check that the hallway is clear. “She doesn’t know that I’m bisexual.”

“Seriously?” Tony asks, mouth opening and closing. “The person you’d been with for years doesn’t know that? So wait, when you said that you would be willing to go public with us eventually, did you even mean that?”

“What does that even have to do with this?”

“You’ve known her for ten years, Steve. She’s been there for your entire adult life, and she still doesn’t know about it.”

It’s one thing to lie to strangers. Tony’s been living with it for two months now, even if he hates it. It’s another thing completely to lie to friends, to the people that Steve himself says might as well be family.

“Are you ashamed of us? Is that what this is?”

“That’s not fair. You know it’s more complicated than that,” Steve says. He runs his hand through his hair, then starts again, “Look, can we just forget this? I’ll tell her that we’re not getting back together, and you and I can go back to normal.”

“And what will you tell her when she asks why?”

“She’s not going to ask.”

“Of course she will,” Tony says. “She’s still in love with you, and you and I both know that you kissed her back just now. She’s going to want to know why, and what are you going to tell her?”

Steve sighs, “Tony -”

“No,” Tony cuts him off. “What are you going to tell her?”

Steve’s silence is answer enough. 

“I can’t do this,” Tony shakes his head. A tear slips out, and he brushes it away with the back of his hand before it can trail down his cheek. It’s one thing after another today, all of it piling up until Tony buckles under its weight. “You said I could walk away if it ever got to be too much, and guess what? It’s too fucking much. 

“What normal would we even go back to? You’re leaving in a couple of weeks, and I’m just supposed to wait around for you to come back. That’s not a normal that I want. I don’t want to keep getting pushed away when we’re in public. I don’t want to feel dirty every time you leave, like I’m not good enough for something real with you. I’m either your boyfriend, or I’m not, but the in between isn’t enough for me anymore.”

Steve looks broken now, and the vindictive part of him thinks,  _ good _ . He should suffer, too. He should feel the same ache, have the same vice around his heart. 

“Please,” Steve’s voice cracks. “Don’t do this.”

Tony forces his own voice to harden, his shoulders to square. “Have a good time in Australia, Steve. Don’t bother coming back.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for all the comments on that last chapter!!

Christmas and New Years pass in a hazy blur. Tony spends the holidays with his friends, and he's well aware that he makes poor company. His smiles all feel forced, and even the champagne he drowns himself in as his friends ring in the New Year doesn't fill the ache of Steve not being there for him to kiss at midnight. He watches Pepper and Rhodey, her new ring shining on her finger as he holds her, and regrets everything.

He goes back and forth between hating himself and hating Steve for what happened. The blame gets passed a hundred times in his head, and in the end all he knows is that he misses Steve so much he can’t breathe sometimes. He tells himself it was the right choice, that he would have only gotten hurt more in the long run if he’d stayed. 

He realizes now that there was never a happy ending for them. There’s no happiness in being someone’s best kept secret. 

"So there's a new teacher at the ballet studio," Nat says. Her tone is casual enough, but he knows where this is going. "Her name's May."

Tony pauses with his hands tangled in the Christmas lights he's taking off the shelves in the bookstore. They’re the last traces of Steve he has left, and it hurt too much to take them down when he should have. But it’s nearing February now, and people have started to make comments. 

"Let me guess, she's really nice and pretty and smart and probably not in the middle of an on and off relationship with one of People Magazine's most beautiful people."

Nat takes the bitterness of his tone in stride, "I mean, I don't actually have any verification on that last part, but the rest is definitely true. And she’s got kind of a thing for short guys, I hear, so you’re just her type.” 

Tony scoffs, “First of all, I’m not short. I’m a perfectly average height for a man. Second, who the hell has a thing for short guys and why do you know about it?”

“Sure you are,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “She’s only about five foot herself, and I heard her tell Yelena that she doesn’t like dating tall guys because they make her feel like an ant.”

Tony doesn’t respond, too busy wrapping up the strands of lights and trying to avoid yet another setup attempt by his friends. They think he needs to move on and have reached an agreement that he should do that by dating other people. He knows they think he’s being overdramatic about the whole thing. They were only together for a little over two months; he should be over it already, according to them. But he isn’t over it. Not even close. 

“Pepper met her last weekend at brunch. She thinks you’d like her.”

He folds a blanket of fake snow and sticks it into a storage container. 

“It’s just one dinner. If it goes bad, you’ll never have to see her again.”

Tony sighs, “If I say yes, will you let this go? No more setups or blind dates.”

“No promises.”

He glares at her, but she doesn’t waver. “There’s no harm in dating around, Tony.”

“I don’t want to date around, Nat,” he says, mimicking the cadence of her tone. “And there is harm. It’s disingenuous to go on dates with someone when I know I’m not going to want anything with them. It’s a waste of my time and theirs.”

“You don’t know if you’re going to want anything with them until you meet them. You might end up meeting someone you really like, and you could be really happy if you gave it a chance.”

“I did give it a chance, and it blew up in my face.”

“Look, no offense, but you gave it a chance with a celebrity living in the closet. There’s no way you thought that would last.”

Sometimes he likes Natasha’s blunt honesty. Other times, like today, it just cuts him open more, like ice water spreading in his veins. A cold shock that he really could have done without.

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” he snaps. “All I was thinking was hey, here’s this really amazing guy who treats me well and laughs at my dumb jokes and says really nice things all the time, I think I want to keep him around. And it was perfect when we were together. Like one of those stupid movies Pepper’s always watching, except I get to be the one swept off my feet by Mr. Right.

“But then he doesn’t really want to be seen with me in public, and he doesn’t want to make plans for the future that involve people knowing about us either, and he just announces that he’s leaving for Au-fucking-stralia for two months. And then, here’s the kicker, his ex-girlfriend comes back to top it all off. Yeah, maybe I should have seen that coming all along, but I was too fucking busy being in love with him to think it would go that way.” 

Nat’s face softens along with her voice, “I know that he broke your heart, but I’m all I’m asking you to do is give it a chance. You don’t have to fall in love with May or whoever else comes after her. You don’t even have to pretend to like her if you don’t. Just try it. Please, Tony. You know we just want you to be happy.”

Tony feels his anger leave his body all at once, and he thinks about it for a long moment, mentally weighing the pros and cons. It’s not all that terrible, all things considered, and it might be nice to talk to someone on Friday night that isn’t Clint. 

“Alright,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. Fuck, he probably needs to get it cut before he goes on a date with anyone. “I’ll go out with May.”

***

“Hey, Nat?”

Natasha hums, not looking up from the book she’s reading behind the counter. 

“You could have mentioned that May was pushing 40.”

Nat shrugs, “You’ve dated people older than you before. Steve was old.”

“Steve was 27. May has a teenage son.” 

“Oh, damn,” Nat grimaces. “I didn’t know about that. Sorry.”

“He’s president of his high school’s robotics club. Apparently he wants to go to MIT. I’m pretty sure I have more in common with him than her.”

Nat tosses the book to the side and clasps her hands together under her chin. “Clint has a friend you might like.”

***

Clint’s friend is named Bruce, and things are actually going well at first. They both like science, even though Bruce prefers the softer stuff while Tony prefers physics and engineering. He follows everything Tony says about clean energy, and Tony thinks his experiments with radiation are pretty interesting. Bruce’s jokes are a little on the flat side, but he fakes a laugh for them anyway. 

Their kiss at the end of the night makes him wince. It’s even worse when Bruce is the one that points out that there isn’t an ounce of actual chemistry between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he steps away. “I just don’t think there’s anything here.”

Tony’s face heats up. “Yeah, agreed.”

“We could be friends, though.”

***

“I’m murdering every single one of you,” Tony says, slamming Pepper’s front door shut. 

Pepper frowns, “What was wrong with this one?”

“Seriously?” Tony asks. 

“He’s hot, charming, and has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Nat says. “Your perfect man.”

Tony uses his fingers to list off the reasons Brock Rumlow was an asshole. “Well, he snapped his fingers to get the waitress’s attention on at least three occasions. He talked about himself the entire time, usually while he was still chewing. Oh, and let’s not forget when he claimed that the Nazis actually had a decent point.”

“Jesus,” Clint says with wide eyes. “Which one of you picked that guy?”

Pepper and Nat blame the other at the same time, while Tony steals the rest of their brownies from their plates and tells them he’s earned it when they try to get them back. They don’t argue it.

***

“Would you be okay dating a guy named Stephen?”

“Hell no.”

***

His next date is thrust on him by surprise when he thinks he’s in for a quiet night at Pepper and Rhodey’s apartment. The woman is already there when he arrives, chatting with Pepper while Rhodey stirs something at the stove. She’s pretty, with high cheekbones and shortly cropped blonde hair. Her posture is arrow straight, and Tony knows she’s military before Pepper tells him. 

“Hey, Tony,” Pepper smiles. “This is Carol. She’s a captain in the Air Force.”

Carol ends up being a complete badass that Tony’s simultaneously intimidated and amused by. She tells him the story about the first time she met Rhodey, and Tony laughs - really, honestly laughs - for the first time in months. But it still takes him all of thirty seconds to know it will never work out with her.

Tony kisses her cheek when she leaves for the night, and when he turns back around Rhodey is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. 

“Well, do you think you’d want a second date?” he asks. 

“I’d love to see her again,” Tony says honestly. “But I think her girlfriend might have a problem with that.”

Pepper smacks Rhodey’s arm, “Oh my God, you didn’t check to see if she was single first.”

“It’s more the lesbian part that’s the issue,” Tony says. 

Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose, looking at Rhodey with a mix of frustration and pity for his stupidity. It’s nice to see that look aimed at someone else for once. “I love you, but you’re no longer allowed to pick dates.”

“Yeah, that’s a good call,” Rhodey sighs.

***

“How do you feel about dating one of my business school professors?” Pepper asks.

Tony pauses where he’s restocking the shelves. “Depends on which one. You complain about most of them.”

“Coulson.”

Tony makes a face, “The one that you once said doesn’t know how to smile?”

“I think he knows how, he just chooses not to most of the time.”

“Why would I want to date your hardass professor?” Tony questions. “And how would you even go about setting that up?”

Pepper turns her phone around so he can see it. “He showed up on the Grindr I made for you.”

Tony hits his head on the bookshelf in front of him until those words get knocked out of his brain.

*** 

“I think it’s time we throw in the towel,” Tony says, slumping against Pepper on her couch after yet another bad date. This time was with one of Pepper’s classmates. In her defense, she did say Justin Hammer was a bit of a long shot. She did not, however, tell him that Justin was the most arrogant man alive with none of the credentials to back it up. 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Pepper sighs. She runs her hand through his hair, and he leans into the touch until his head is in her lap. His legs end up on Rhodey, who he shoved over so he could take the middle spot. “I’ve still got a few more candidates in mind. It’s not completely hopeless yet.”

Tony shakes his head, “I’m done with the blind dates. Every one sucks.”

“At least you got some new friends out of it, right?” Pepper says. 

“Bruce is pretty cool,” Tony concedes. “And Carol beat Thor in flip cup, so she’s my new favorite.”

Rhodey flicks the bottom of his sock-clad foot. “Rude. You can’t be my best man if I’m not your favorite.”

“Have fun with Clint then.”

“Alright, fine, you can still be my best man, but only because I don’t even want to think of the kind of bachelor party Clint would think up.”

“There’s a hundred percent chance we’d all end up in jail.”

“With you it’s fifty-fifty.”

“Lies and slander,” Tony accuses. “I would never do anything to put you in jail before your wedding day. Your mama would kill me, and I can’t put my status as her favorite white boy at risk.”

“You’re only her favorite by default.”

Tony turns so he can look up at Pepper, giving her sad eyes. “Your fiance is being mean to me. Break up with him, you can marry me instead.”

Pepper laughs, “What a tempting offer.”

“Hey,” Rhodey says in mock outrage.

They smile at each other, expressions so full of love that the moment has Tony feeling melancholy again. 

“I think I need to find single friends to hang out with. You guys are depressing me with your happiness,” Tony says. 

He moves to get up, but Rhodey holds him by the legs while Pepper holds him by the torso. 

“Nope,” Rhodey says. “Your ass is staying right here, and we’re going to watch bad horror movies and drink every time we laugh when we were supposed to scream.”

Tony gives an exaggerated sigh as he flops back into the couch. He keeps his head in Pepper’s lap, and she keeps stroking her hand through his hair. The drinking game never quite happens, but he falls asleep to the sounds of his two best friends laughing, so he supposes it’s a good night anyway. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a character being publicly outed by the media. That's a bit of a spoiler, I know, but it deserved a warning. Please be aware of that and recognize ahead of time if this is something that will upset or trigger you. 
> 
> Thank you again for every single lovely comment I've received so far. If it's not obvious by the fact that this is the third chapter I've posted in 36 hours, they're very encouraging!

A week later, Tony is folding the pile of laundry that has taken up residence on his desk chair when a knock on the door comes. Tossing a sweatshirt back down, he runs through the list of possible people it could be while he walks to the door. Rhodey’s back on base out west, Pepper’s downstairs at the store with Nat, and all of them have keys anyway. If Clint forgot his key, he would have called to complain while he was attempting to get the spare from the hidden compartment. Attempt is the key word; he always fails. Anyone who goes door-to-door usually skips his place, either not even noticing that it’s there or not willing to climb the stairs just for one household, but it’s the strongest possibility. 

He unlocks the door, rejection for whatever salesman or religious representative is on the other side at the ready, but freezes at the sight of a red-eyed Steve Rogers with a duffle bag over his shoulder. 

Steve gives him a watery smile, small and apologetic. “Hi, Tony. Could I come in?”

Tony steps aside, not trusting his voice to not break if he attempted to verbally invite him inside. Steve hovers behind him as he slides the lock back into place.

“I’m really sorry for coming here, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

Tony doesn’t know what that means, but he does know he’s not enough of an asshole to turn away someone who’s clearly distraught, even if it is his ex-boyfriend who he would have preferred to never see again. 

Putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder, he wordlessly directs him to sit down on the couch. He doesn’t ask what happened, knowing Steve will tell him when he’s ready. Instead, he goes into the kitchen and pulls out the tea kettle that he only owns in the first place because of Steve. 

He puts an earl grey tea bag into a mug and patiently waits for the water to boil. From the other room, he can hear a tissue being pulled from the box and the sound of a nose being blown. 

When the tea is done, he adds a spoonful of honey and silently puts the mug into Steve’s hand. The moisture in his eyes increases at the gesture, and Tony’s grateful for the fact that the tears don’t actually fall. He’s never been good at delivering comfort. 

“Thank you,” Steve says in a whisper. He stares down at the mug, smiles a bit when he notices it’s the one with the tiny Captain America shields all over it. Tony bought it mostly as a joke, but it became Steve’s go-to mug on the days he slept over. No one has touched it in months. 

Steve takes a sip, and if it burns the roof of his mouth, he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I’m sure you saw what happened.”

Tony frowns, “No, I didn’t.”

Steve gives him a disbelieving look, “It’s on the front page of every magazine in the world right now, and I’ve been trending number one on Twitter for eighteen straight hours.”

“No offense, but I’ve been kind of avoiding celebrity gossip these days.”

He’s mostly stayed off of Twitter, purposely looks the other direction when he walks by newsstands on the street or at the grocery store, and changes the channel when any sort of celebrity news show comes on. At first he let his curiosity get the better of him, but he was quick to learn his lesson when every result of his google search of Steve’s name was some sort of article speculating on the current state of his relationship with Sharon. 

“Then you’re the one person in America who hasn’t seen the pictures,” Steve sighs, running his hand through his hair. 

“Pictures?” 

Steve unzips his bag and pulls out a stack of magazines, tossing them on the coffee table. They fan out, and each one has the same set of pictures on the front: black and white photographs of two clearly naked men, though everything below the waist is blurred out. Their hands are on each other, and there’s only one possible interpretation for what’s going on. The other man is fortunate enough to have his face hidden in the photographs, either tucked into the shoulder of the other or looking away from the camera. The only possible identifying mark is a tattoo on his shoulder, but it’s far enough away that no one can tell what it is anyway. Steve wasn’t so lucky. His face is clear as day in every shot. 

“There’s maybe ten different pictures,” Steve says, voice sounding oddly detached, like he’s talking about someone else. “I don’t know who took them or why they’re coming out now. I think it might have been one of his friends. Probably just thought he could make a quick buck by forcibly outing someone.”

Tony gathers up all the magazines and throws them away in the garbage in the kitchen. When he comes back, he has to take a deep breath to steady himself. He sits closer to Steve than before, leaving just a couple of inches between them. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. He wants to reach out, put his hand on Steve’s knee or maybe his shoulder, but he isn’t sure if the touch is welcome.

“No,” Steve laughs, bitter and on the verge of hysterical. “How could I possibly be okay right now?”

“Yeah, okay, that was a dumb question.”

Steve stands abruptly and begins frantically pacing in the space between the coffee table and the television. “It’s just so - I don’t even know what it is. Everyone is freaking out. I’ve gotten a thousand text messages since yesterday. Sharon keeps calling, but I know all she wants to know is if I’m actually gay. 

“That seems to be the conclusion everyone’s reached. That every woman I’ve been with was just a cover, and I was secretly fucking every guy I’ve ever known. Fuck, you should see all the shit they’re saying about me and Buck. 

“There’s just too many people asking me why I lied to them. As if they were entitled to know about it when they weren’t. It’s my fucking life. It was my choice to make, and they’re acting like it was some kind of betrayal that I didn’t come out to them. 

“It’s like they’re forgetting that I didn’t want this to happen, either. I didn’t want the whole world to know, and I sure as hell didn’t want it to happen like this. With some stupid photos that look like they’re straight out of a goddamn porn shoot.

“And you,” Steve stops pacing, taking a deep, ragged breath. “I think you might be the first person to ask me if I’m okay. You’re the only one who isn’t asking for an explanation or trying to talk PR strategy and damage control. Even though I’m probably the last person you wanted to see. Even though you hate me.” 

Tony crosses the room and pulls Steve into his arms. One arm wraps around his torso, the other around his shoulders, squeezing tighter when Steve tenses up at first. When he seems to realize that it’s okay to hug him back, Steve doesn’t hesitate to sink into him. His shoulders drop, knees almost buckling, and a choked sob escapes his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasps out through his tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He pulls Steve’s head to his shoulder, letting the tears soak into his t-shirt. Steve keeps mumbling apologies, but he isn’t sure what they’re for. 

“Stop,” Tony whispers, stroking his hand soothingly down Steve’s spine. “Stop apologizing. You don’t need to.”

“I owe you so much more than an apology,” Steve says, voice breaking on multiple words. 

“Not for today you don’t,” Tony says. “And I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head. He tries to lift it, but Tony’s hand keeps it right where it is. “I shouldn’t have come here. It’s not fair to you.” His hand loosens and tightens its grip on Tony’s hip, fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do. Which is probably true. Tony doesn’t know what to do either. There isn’t exactly a handbook for this kind of thing. 

“I don’t care if it’s fair or not. I’m glad you came to me, even if it was the last resort.”

He can feel Steve swallow with the bob of his Adam’s apple. Then two quiet words. “I lied.”

“You lied,” Tony echos in confusion, trying to figure out what the words mean. “What are you talking about?”

Steve pulls back again, and Tony lets him this time. He looks away, over Tony’s shoulder to the framed print of the Manhattan skyline on the wall. 

“I didn’t come here because I had no other options. I came here because,” Steve pauses, wets his lower lip with a flick of his tongue. He’s struggling with the words, either not knowing how to describe the reason or having a hard time getting it out. 

Tony waits. 

“You were the first person I thought of,” he finally says. “When I needed someone, I realized you were the only one I wanted.”

He turns his head to look at Tony again, and Tony’s never seen him look so terrible before. His skin is red and blotchy, tear tracks wetting his cheeks. His eyelids are swollen, and half of his eyebrow is twisted in the wrong direction from where he was pressed into Tony’s shoulder. He looks tired, and Tony doesn’t have to ask to know that he hasn’t been sleeping well long before this happened. One night isn’t enough to give him dark circles like that.

“That’s why it’s not fair to you. I don’t have the right to come back into your life just because I need you.”

Tony reaches his hand up slowly, giving Steve the chance to pull away before he cups his cheek. He strokes his thumb across Steve’s check, wiping away the last of his tears. 

Steve is right; Tony can’t tell him that he isn’t. But if Tony had seen the news on his own he would have reached out. He would have asked him if he was okay, if he needed anything. He would still want to be there for him, because no matter what happened between them, Steve didn’t deserve to have this happen to him. 

“Maybe not,” Tony says. “But I’m not upset that you did. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

Steve smiles, and his lips only quiver a little this time. Tony kisses his cheek, then reaches for his hand to pull him back to the couch. 

“C’mon,” he says lightly. “We’re going to catch up on the last season of MasterChef, and you’re going to drink your tea, and we’re not going to talk about the pictures or us or anything that isn’t how fuckable Gordon Ramsey is.”

“Ugh,” Steve groans. “The answer is not at all.”

“That’s because you’re a top, Steve. My fellow bottoms and I would love to get railed by that man.” 

“You’re terrible,” Steve laughs, and God, he’s missed that sound. 

Steve settles into the couch, back in the corner and his legs splayed out on the cushions, while Tony grabs his phone. He sends a text in the group chat to Pepper and Nat, begging one of them to cover the closing shift for him with the promise to explain later. Pepper, the absolute saint that she is, agrees a moment later. 

He turns the phone off when he’s done, then puts himself between Steve’s legs before he can even think about it. His back rests against Steve’s chest, his head on his shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels right again. 


	12. Chapter 12

“They’re really old, by the way,” Steve says quietly as the production credit rolls on their fourth episode of MasterChef. 

“What?” 

“The pictures,” he says. Steve’s fingertip draws a swirling pattern on Tony’s forearm while he talks. “It was at least five years ago. Maybe more.” 

“We’re not talking about those.”

The season recap at the start of the next episode starts to play, but Steve reaches for the remote and hits pause. 

“I want to talk about it.” He sighs, then corrects, “Well, I don’t want to, but I should. I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening, and I owe you an explanation.”

Tony sits up, turning in Steve’s arms so he knows he means it when he says, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I showed up unannounced at your apartment three and a half months after we broke up and brought my mountain of problems with me. That definitely earns you an explanation,” Steve says. “And I know you must be wondering if that was before or after you.” 

Admittedly, he was wondering that. A terrible part of him was burning with jealousy when he first saw the pictures. It’s probably hypocritical of him to be jealous of Steve moving on when he was going on dates himself, but he can’t stand the thought of Steve with someone else. 

“How long were you with him?” Tony asks, because he needs to know. Steve never talked much about exes before, not the men or the women. 

“I wasn’t with him, not really. I think I was maybe 22 when it happened. It was right after Sharon and I broke up for the first time, and I just wanted a distraction,” Steve explains. “I met him at a bar. He didn’t know who I was at first, and I liked that. We hooked up a few times, always at his place.

“It was fine for a while, but then I met one of his friends by accident. I was at his place, and one of them just walked in. He knew who I was, and I really thought he was going to expose me back then. 

“I told Sam about it, and he said he’d take care of it. I never found out what he did, but I broke it off with the guy and never saw either of them again. Nothing ever happened, so I forgot all about it until all of the sudden the pictures were everywhere.”

Tony’s quiet for a long moment before he asks, “So Sam always knew?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “I didn’t want to tell him, but I needed his help. Besides the couple of guys I’ve gone out with, no one but him knew before.”

There’s been a question on Tony’s mind for a while now, something that’s never quite made sense to him. 

“Why were you so open about it with me?” he asks. “With my friends, too. They all knew when they met you. You asked me out after one conversation. If you never wanted anyone to know, why did you do that?”

Steve takes his hand, flipping it over in his so it’s open in his own. His thumb traces the lines of Tony’s palm while his eyes track the movement. 

“Honestly, I don’t have a good explanation for that. I think - I think that you made me feel normal. That’s why I called you in the first place. I liked how it felt when I was talking to you. The way you talked to me like I was just another person. I mean, I could tell you were a little flustered by it, but it was the cute kind of flustered. And then when we had our first date, you just fit in there so well. You weren’t freaked out. Anyone else would have been, but not you. 

“I was actually supposed to have you sign an NDA before we went out. Sam has all of the guys I go out with do it, just in case. I had it all ready to go, sitting right there on the desk. But we started talking and I kissed you and I just couldn’t do it. I told myself I’d do it later, let the date happen first. But later sort of turned into never.”

“I would’ve signed it,” Tony says. “I would’ve understood.”

“I think that’s part of why I couldn’t do it. Because I knew that you understood it. When you were telling me about your family, that’s when I decided I wasn’t going to do it. Even when I barely knew you, I trusted you.” 

Tony nods slowly. “What about my friends?”

Steve sighs, “Technically they were all supposed to get NDAs, too. Sam threw a fit when I told him I did that.”

“So why didn’t they?”

“It was something Rhodey said, actually,” Steve says. “When he was giving me the whole  _ I’ll kill you if you hurt him  _ speech. He said if you liked me enough to bring me to meet them, it meant that I was part of the group, too. He didn’t explicitly tell me what that meant, but I’d spent enough time with all of you already to get what he was saying. 

“Sam thought I was crazy. Told me it’d come back to bite me in the ass one day, and there was nothing he could do about it when it did. Once it’s out there, it’s out there forever. But I just knew that they wouldn’t say anything to anyone else, and neither would you.”

“What about when we broke up?”

“I knew you wouldn’t then, either.”

“How?” Tony asks. “You thought I hated you. What if I wanted revenge?”

Steve laughs, “Sam said almost the exact same thing.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and there wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d do that to me.” 

Tony has to look away from the sincerity written on Steve’s face. It’s a little too much for him to handle right now. 

“And before you can ask, I knew your friends wouldn’t do that either, because they’re not complete assholes,” Steve says. “Plus, they care about you too much for that.”

Tony smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “You’re right about that, but Rhodey really does want to kill you. Nat does, too. Pepper just wants to give you her signature look of disappointment, patent pending.” 

Steve nods, looking down at their hands again. The guilt is clear on his face. “I know. I hurt you. I didn’t mean to and I feel terrible about it, but it still happened.”

“I still don’t want to talk about us,” Tony says softly. “It’s just - I don’t know if I’m ready for that conversation.”

“Okay. That’s understandable.”

The silence that falls between them is uncomfortable for the first time since they met. Tony feels the need to fill it, so that’s what he does. 

They talk about the last three and a half months, but never the bad moments. Tony tells him about his friends’ terrible setup attempts, and Rhodey’s proposal just before midnight on New Year’s Eve. He talks about the hat Pepper made him as part of her new crocheting hobby, the broken nose Nat accidentally gave a guy in her self-defense course, and Clint’s infatuation with the new bartender at their favorite spot.

He doesn’t mention the breakdown he had in January, when he found one of Steve’s t-shirts under his bed and Clint found him curled up on the floor. They don’t talk about Christmas, or the gift he still has tucked away in his closet. He doesn’t say that he almost threw it away a hundred times, but he could never go through with it. A part of him held onto hope that Steve would come back to him, even though Tony told him not to. 

Steve talks about Australia, and the co-star he hated. There’s a new scar on his arm from a stunt gone wrong, and he tried surfing for the first time when he was on the Gold Coast. Another one of his movies came out last month, and he tells Tony about the premiere. He gives stories of talk show interviews, fan encounters, and magazine photoshoots. 

He mentions Sharon only once, just to say that they’re done for good this time. They didn’t get back together that night after all, and Tony feels a little guilty for the rush of relief that information gives him. 

At some point Clint comes home, and he stands in the threshold of the living room for a long time, analyzing the situation. 

“I’m gonna order some pizza,” he finally says, then disappears into the kitchen. 

He doesn’t ask any questions, but when he offers Steve the last slice of pizza, Tony knows that he must have seen the pictures. Clint hates emotional conversations, hates pity even more no matter which direction it’s going in, but giving up the last slice of pizza is an act of kindness he can handle. 

When the pizza is gone and the beer bottles have been collected, Clint disappears again. His bedroom door shuts behind him, leaving Tony and Steve alone again. 

They stand there for a while, just looking at each other in the fading light coming in from the window above the sink. They’ve run out of things they can say. Only one topic remains, but he still can’t do it.

“Should we finish MasterChef?” he asks. 

Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t.

They go back to the couch, and Tony puts distance between them again. Before he could justify it as comfort, but there’s no excuse for it now. He sits at one end, legs tucked up against his chest, and Steve sits at the other. 

He can hardly focus on the screen. At least half of his attention is on Steve at any given moment, tracking every movement in his peripheral vision and catching every sound he makes. He barely knows enough about what’s happening to participate in the debate Steve starts over which team should win the challenge. He just picks the blue team because Steve said red. 

It gets late, and Steve seems to be barely keeping his eyes open. He easily agrees when Tony suggests that they call it a night. 

Tony goes to his bedroom to change into pajamas, while Steve changes in the bathroom. They end up at the sink next to each other, brushing their teeth with tension so thick between them that Tony feels like he might combust. 

“You should take the bed,” Tony says when they’re done. “I’ll take the couch.”

Steve frowns, “No, that’s not - I’ll take the couch. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Tony.”

“It’s not kicking me out. I’m offering,” Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re too tall for the couch, and you need a decent night of sleep.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, you will be, because you’ll be in the bed.”

“Tony -”

Tony cuts off his next argument with a hand on Steve’s bicep. “Just take the bed. I’ll feel guilty if you don’t.”

“I’ll feel guilty if I do.”

“Then just add to the pile of other shit you feel guilty about.”

It’s harsher than he intends, and Steve seems to shrink into himself. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a click of his teeth and nods. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says softly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Steve looks down at his slippered feet. “It’s fine.”

Tony shakes his head, “It’s really not. You’ve got enough going on. I shouldn’t be making it worse.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” Steve says quietly. 

“I’m not angry. I’m just -” Tony sighs, tugging on the ends of his hair. “Please just take the bed.”

Steve nods again, his mouth set into a flat line. He still isn’t looking at Tony, and Tony feels terrible for it. He wants to say something to fix it, to bring back the feeling they had not that long ago, when things almost felt alright between them. But it’s gone now, and the reality of the situation is sinking back in. They aren’t okay, not as individuals and not certainly together.

Tony reaches out, lightly touches Steve’s wrist. “I’ll see you in the morning.”


	13. Chapter 13

Tony rolls over for the hundredth time in two hours, fluffing the pillow beneath his head again. Sleep refuses to take him, refuses to give him respite from his endlessly running mind. He keeps wondering if Steve is still awake, and what he’s thinking about if he is. 

At around one in the morning, Tony gives up. He tosses the blanket off and pads across the room as quietly as possible. 

The bedroom door is open just a crack, and it creaks when he pushes it open enough for him to slip inside. Steve lifts his head at the sound, but doesn’t say a word as Tony crawls into the empty space next to him, the same side that was his when they were together. Steve holds an arm out in invitation, and Tony accepts it. 

Curling around Steve’s body, he rests his head on his chest and fists his hand in the soft fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. Strong arms wrap around him, blanketing him in safety and warmth. His heartbeat is steady under Tony’s ear, and the sound is so familiar it hurts. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Tony whispers. 

Steve takes a few seconds to answer. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Tony says. “Do you?”

“Almost.”

Tony listens to Steve’s breathing for a while, then he confesses, “I miss you.” 

It’s easier to say what he really feels in the dark. In the dark, he can’t see how Steve reacts. All they have are the words. 

“I miss you, too,” Steve whispers back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you do.”

Tony bites his lip, torn between the competing parts of his brain. On the one side, there’s so much between them that’s been left unsaid. So many hurts that should be voiced, so many things he should have said long before they were breaking up. He isn’t blameless in this, and he needs Steve to know that. 

But on the other side is the desire to push the pain aside for just one night. To let himself be held and hold Steve in return. To memorize all the things he took for granted before and burn the little details into the folds of his brain so he can always have them, like a photo album in his mind. 

He wants to feel Steve’s sweat-slick skin under his hands again, lick away the mint of his toothpaste until there’s nothing but the taste of the two of them combined in his mouth. He wants to remember what it feels like to be worshipped by someone else’s touch. To feel like he’s floating amongst the stars he sees in Steve’s eyes. 

The first side is dominated by logic and reason and the supposed right thing to do. The second is temptation and longing combined in equal parts to create the desperation that’s been keeping him awake all night. 

It’s much too easy to give into. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says again as he straddles Steve’s hips. 

Steve pulls Tony’s shirt over his head. “If that’s what you want.”

Steve’s hands run up and down his exposed skin, charting the lines of his body, from the slight jut of his hip bones to the small scar just below his collarbone. Steve is memorizing, too, Tony realizes. He doesn’t want to think about what it means that they’re both treating it like the last time. 

Tony reaches for the curtain covering the window above the bed and pulls it open enough for the pale moonlight to cast its glow over Steve. He wants to see this part as much as he wants to feel it. 

Clothes come off slowly, with hesitant hands that keep asking if this is really okay. His lips against Steve’s throat say yes, and the continuous rise and fall of Steve’s hips echoes it back to him. 

Every touch feels amplified ten fold. His head falls forward to rest on Steve’s shoulder when he feels the first press of Steve’s fingers against him. 

Steve takes his time working him open, and for once Tony doesn’t want to speed up the process. He meets every slow drag of Steve’s fingers with languid rocking of his hips, taking only what Steve wants to give him. It’s the sweetest form of torture, and he clings to Steve all the way through it. 

“Is this how you want it?” Steve whispers, pulling his fingers out and spreading the excess lube over himself. 

Tony nods and pushes himself up with hands on Steve’s chest. Steve grips the base of his cock with one hand, and the other guides Tony down onto him. 

He sinks down as far as he can go, stilling when he reaches the end. Shutting his eyes, he takes long, deep breaths to steady himself. Part of him wants to cry suddenly, while the other wants to get lost in the feeling of Steve. Once again, he takes the second option. 

He opens his eyes as he lifts himself up and smiles at the sound it elicits from Steve. All of his attention goes to making Steve feel good, and his own pleasure takes the back burner. 

Leaning down, he drags his lips across Steve’s jaw. He’s careful not to leave any marks as he sucks and nips his way down Steve’s throat. There won’t be any evidence of this in the morning, at least not for Steve. The subtle ache of his body will serve as Tony’s only reminder that this night ever happened. 

It’s a slow build to the end as the heat gradually pools inside of him. Steve sits up, resting his back against the headboard and bringing Tony with him. The change in angle pushes him closer to the edge, and his toes curl into the sheets. 

Tony holds Steve’s face in his hands, feeling the sharp, square edges of his jaw in his palms. With anyone else the eye contact would be too much, but with them it acts as an anchor that holds them together. In this moment, everything outside the two of them ceases to exist. His mind goes blissfully quiet as his body comes alive. 

Tony’s cock drags perfectly against Steve’s stomach with each movement of their hips, but he wants Steve to come first. He wants to be fully present to watch Steve’s face as it happens. 

He clenches himself around Steve, circling his thumb around Steve’s nipple at the same time. The sound Steve makes is muffled by the first kiss they’ve shared in nearly four months. He makes it last for as long as he can, savoring the taste of him until he needs to breathe again. 

Steve’s movements grow more erratic, the pace increasing incrementally. Tony kisses him slowly one more time before whispering in his ear, “Come for me, baby.”

The hand on Tony’s hip tightens, and Steve’s breathing stutters. After a couple more seconds Steve is spilling inside of him, and Tony follows close behind. 

He puts his head back on Steve’s shoulder, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the smell of sweat and lingering cologne. Steve’s arms snake around him and hold him tight. He isn’t sure which one of them is shaking. Maybe it’s both of them. 

“We should clean up,” Steve eventually says.

Tony nods, but he doesn’t move. 

“Just one more minute.”

“One more minute,” Steve echoes. 

It’s more like ten minutes by the time he finally moves. He lifts himself off of Steve, sticking to him a bit where the come has cooled between them, and lays flat on the bed. 

Steve gets up, and there’s a distant sound of running water before he returns with a damp washcloth that he hands to Tony. 

When everything has been wiped away, the washcloth gets tossed to the floor, and Steve gets back into bed. Tony turns to his side, while Steve wraps his arms around him and presses his chest to Tony’s back. 

After a long silence, Steve says, “Sam texted me about an hour ago. He told me I could deny the pictures if I want. We could say they’re edited, that I’m not actually the guy in them. They were taken from far enough away that it’s plausible.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Tony carefully keeps his tone neutral, no trace of judgment in his voice. 

“I’d have to publicly say that I’m straight. I’d have to lie about never being with a man before, and then I’d have to hope that those pictures were the only evidence out there. I couldn’t ever come out for real after that, not unless I want to completely ruin my reputation.”

“Is that what you want?” Tony asks again. 

Steve takes a few seconds to answer. “I don’t think so.”

Tony rolls over so they’re chest to chest, tilting his head up to kiss the underside of Steve’s jaw. They’re completely entangled in each other, legs overlapping and arms tight around each other’s bodies. Steve’s bicep is under Tony’s head, and his fingers card through his hair. 

He listens to Steve’s heartbeat again, but it doesn’t hurt as much now. Not until Steve says, “I’m going back to New York tomorrow.”

Tony pulls back. “What?”

“I have to deal with this. It’s not going away on its own. I have to figure out what this means for me.”

“And you can’t do that here?”

Steve sighs, “I don’t think I should.”

Tony feels a flare of anger, but it’s quickly doused by a wave of sadness and regret. He doesn’t know what to say, much less what to feel. 

“I’m not in any kind of place to be what you need,” Steve says. “I wasn’t before, either. You deserved better then, and you deserve better now.”

“Shouldn’t that be my call to make?”

Steve answers his question with another of his own, “Can you honestly tell me that we would be good for each other right now? I’ve got so much to sort out, and it wouldn’t be right to drag you through it with me.”

“So you’re just leaving?”

“For a while, yes,” Steve says. He draws Tony back in, and Tony lets himself be pulled into his chest again. “I’m going to go back to New York and talk to Sam, and we’re going to figure out what I should do next. I need to talk to my friends, because I think I might have assumed the worst of them a little too quickly. And I’m going to need a minute to adjust to all of this. To figure where I stand and how to move forward. 

“But then I’m going to come back here, because I want to do this right next time. I never want to hurt you like that again. And I know that you don’t want to talk about it, but I really need you to know how sorry I am.”

“It’s not all your fault. I should’ve said something. Should’ve told you how I felt,” Tony says. 

“I knew how you felt,” Steve says, guilt in his voice. “I know how much it hurt you to hide what we were, but I was too selfish to end it and too scared to go public. I put myself first every time, and I hate myself for it.”

“Would you do it differently? Knowing what you know now, would you change anything about what happened between us?”

“I don’t know. My mom always loved to say that things happen for a reason, and I’d like to think she was right. But if I could undo all the hurt I caused you, I would,” Steve tells him. “What about you? Would you change anything?”

“I would have told you I loved you,” Tony says. “Would you have said it back?”

“Yes.”

Tony’s smile is tinged with sadness over what could have been. “When you come back, will you tell me then?”

“I’ll tell you all the time. I’ll say it so much that you’ll get sick of hearing it.”

“That’s not possible.”

Steve presses his lips to the top of Tony’s head. “We’ll have all the time in the world to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we've basically completely gone away from what happened in the actual movie now, but hopefully no one minds too much lol.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve left early that morning, slipping out the door while Tony was still half-asleep with a soft kiss and the repeated promise to come back. Tony trusts that he will, believes him when he says it will be different this time. 

His friends’ reactions varied when he relayed the story to them, but the general consensus seems to be that they’ll believe it when they see it. They aren’t quick to forgive, even with their sympathy for the recent events in Steve’s life, but Tony thinks they’ll come around eventually. 

Clint is surprisingly the most supportive, shrugging as he tells Tony, “They didn’t see him as much as I did, and they weren’t there when he came back.”

It’s the most they ever talk about it, but it means more to him than he’ll ever be able to say. They hang out more than before, even though they’ve been roommates for two years. No one is happier for Clint than he is when Clint finally asks the bartender, Laura, out for the first time and she says yes. They make a cute couple, and Laura blends into their group nearly seamlessly. It only starts a minor fight when she takes Nat’s side in the debate over hot dogs being sandwiches. 

He keeps in contact with Steve, texting fairly regularly. It starts as brief snippets about things like the cute dog on the sidewalk that Steve saw while out in New York or the book Tony’s been reading. Eventually it morphs into longer conversations over just about anything. 

Tony never asks when he’s coming back. He respects Steve’s need for time, and the time has been helpful for him as well. It gives him the chance to process his own feelings and move on from them. He lets go of the anger and hurt, finds that it's easy to forgive someone who actually wants to fix the problem. 

The sense of hopelessness that’s been following him around like a storm cloud for the last few months is gone, leaving him in a peaceful state of being. Spring settles over Boston at the same time, and he wants to laugh at how perfect a metaphor it is. 

***

 **Tony** : _saw your interview on the today show. i’m proud of you._

 **Tony** : _also pepper says you should wear blue more_

 **Tony** : _i agree_

 **Steve** : _Thank you. Tell Pepper I said hello._

***

 **Steve** : _Bucky got a cat._

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Steve** : _His name is Alpine._

 **Tony** : _!!!!_

 **Tony** : _please tell him i love him_

 **Tony** : _the cat not bucky_

 **Tony** : _i’m neutral about bucky_

 **Steve** : _Alpine scratched my arm when I told him you love him. I’m sorry, but I don’t think the feeling is mutual._

 **Tony** : _bastard_

***

 **Steve** : _Which jacket should I wear on Fallon?_

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _the left one_

 **Tony** : _send me a picture of you in it?_

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _….._ _please excuse me for at least ten minutes_

 **Steve** : _You’re the worst._

 **Tony** : _you like it_

 **Steve** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _holy fuck_

***

 **Tony** : _do you think bugs seek revenge when we kill their friends?_

 **Tony** : _like do they notice that dave never made it back to the hive?_

 **Tony** : _and then they find his remains on your shoe and now all the bugs want you dead_

 **Steve** : _What kind of a bug did you just kill?_

 **Tony** : _it was a spider_

 **Tony** : _do you think his spider friends noticed though?_

 **Steve** : _I guess you’re about to find out. Good luck._

***

 **Tony** : _i’m dying_

 **Steve** : _I’ll miss you._

 **Tony** : _rude_

 **Steve** : _No, it would be rude if I said I wouldn’t miss you. Care to share why you’re dying?_

 **Tony** : _clint gave me food poisoning_

 **Tony** : _his kitchen privileges have been revoked until further notice_

 **Steve** : _I’m sorry sweetheart. Can I call you?_

 **Tony** : _please :(_

The phone only rings once before Tony picks it up. “Hi, I’m dying.”

“Hi, dying. I’m Steve.”

“I’m hanging up on you,” Tony says, and Steve laughs. “You’re too young for dad jokes, Steven.”

“Come on, I had to use it. I already squandered one opportunity when you texted it. I couldn’t let another one go by.”

Tony smiles despite himself, clutching the pillow a little tighter to his chest. He’s curled up in a ball on the couch, the same spot he’s been in for six hours now. 

“How are you?” Steve asks.

“I’m nauseous and sweaty and gross,” Tony complains. “And when I get better, I’m killing Clint. I’m too weak to properly bury the body right now.”

“Honestly, baby, you should have known better than trust something he made.”

The endearments recently made their way back into conversation, though it happened by accident. Tony slipped up during a phone call last week. Steve was upset over a question he was asked in an interview, and he called Tony to let off some steam. The ‘darling’ just came out reflexively. There was an awkward pause when they both realized it, but then Steve called him honey, and they both pretended it was normal. 

“He tried so hard, though,” Tony groans. “He wanted to make dinner for Laura, but he’s not very good at following recipes, so he tried it out on me first. It turns out he doesn’t check for expiration dates.”

Steve makes a disgusted sound. “How is he still alive?”

“I don’t know. By all means he should be dead from expired shrimp by now, but I think he has the intestinal strength of a raccoon.”

Steve laughs, “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means he could eat out of the trash for the rest of his life and be fine. He’s not even sick right now, and I think he ate the leftovers for breakfast.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end, prompting Tony to ask, “What are you doing right now?”

“I just got to LA. I’m at the hotel,” he replies. “I have some press stuff for the next couple of days.”

“Am I keeping you from something?”

“No, no. I don’t have anything until tomorrow morning. My plans for the night include room service and maybe a nap. I’m actually already in bed, so that maybe is turning into a probably.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re all alone in a big empty bed with nothing but my voice to keep you company,” he says flirtatiously. 

“Ten seconds ago you were dying, and now you’re proposing phone sex,” Steve snorts. “Really, sweetheart?”

Tony grins, “Just because I can’t actively participate doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off. One of us should be having a good time right now.” 

He hears a zipper being pulled down, followed by the shuffling of bedsheets. 

***

 **Tony** : _they’re making that shitty book into a movie_

 **Steve** : _I saw. Sam set me up to audition for it._

 **Tony** : _oh my god_

 **Tony** : _don’t do it_

 **Tony** : _save yourself_

 **Steve** : _Think I’ll do it. Reminds me of you._

 **Tony** : _fucking sap_

 **Steve** : _Only for you._

***

 **Steve** : _Are you free to talk?_

“You know you’re allowed to just call, right?” Tony asks when he picks up the phone. “You don’t have to text first every time.”

“I don’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“There’s nothing I would consider more important than talking to you.”

Steve laughs, “Who’s the sap now?”

“Shut up, Rogers.” 

***

 **Tony** : _oh my god i can’t believe she just did that_

 **Steve** : _SHE OPENED THE OVEN TOO SOON_

 **Steve** : _HER SOUFFLE_

 **Tony** : _these chefs are a disaster_

 **Tony** : _this season only has one redeeming quality_

 **Steve** : _For the last time Gordon Ramsey is not hot_

 **Tony** : _agree to disagree darling_

***

 **Steve** : _I think I officially hate Australia. The spiders here definitely know when you’ve killed their friends._

 **Steve** : _I hate it even more because it’s 3 am in Boston, and you’re not going to see this for at least four more hours._

 **Steve** : _I miss you._

***

 **Tony** : _i miss you too_

***

“Happy birthday, baby,” Steve says. His smile lights up the screen of Tony’s laptop. They haven’t used Skype before, keeping things in phone calls and texts, but a special occasion calls for an exception. 

“Thank you,” Tony grins. 

“What have you done so far today?”

“Well, I woke up this morning to Clint blasting the Taylor Swift song in my ear. It’s apparently a requirement for turning twenty two. Then I had breakfast with him and Laura. Nat took me out to lunch, I worked for a few hours, and then Rhodey called a little while ago,” he says. “I’ve got about an hour before I’m going over to Pepper’s. I’ve been told the theme is the best one yet. But I’ll be honest, seeing your face is going to be the best part of my day no matter what else happens.”

Steve smiles again, though it’s a touch sad. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re busy with the reshoots,” Tony says, and he actually means it. Steve’s schedule doesn’t bother him, not when he knows where his heart really is. “And the flowers were really sweet.”

If you’d asked him just yesterday how he felt about receiving flowers, he would have said they were a waste. Too much money for something that would be dead in a week. But that was before he got them from Steve. He spent the better part of the afternoon researching ways to keep them alive for longer and techniques for preserving the dried petals. And if he cried when he saw them, he has enough blackmail on Clint to prevent the video from getting sent. 

“I’m glad you liked them.”

“I loved them. Thank you, honey.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Tony leans back against the headboard, adjusting the laptop on his bent knees. “Tell me about your day. Don’t leave anything out.”

***

 **Tony** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _you looked really fucking hot in this movie_

 **Tony** : _young steve was smokin_

 **Steve** : _Are you calling me old?_

 **Tony** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _you should grow out your beard like this again_

 **Steve** : _Nice deflection._

 **Tony** : _thank you :)_

 **Tony** : _i really wanna see the beard though_

***

 **Steve** : _What are you doing on June 22nd?_

 **Tony** : _uhhhhh idk_

 **Tony** : _why?_

 **Steve** : _I’ll be filming some scenes for the next Captain America._

 **Steve** : _In Boston._

 **Tony** : _i have no plans for june 22nd_

 **Tony** : _suddenly my schedule is very clear_

 **Tony** : _what a coincidence_

 **Steve** : _What a coincidence indeed_

 **Tony** : _god i can’t wait to see you_

 **Steve** : _Just two more weeks baby._

***

 **Tony** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _just a preview for friday_

 **Steve** : _I’m calling you in ten minutes._

 **Tony** : _hurry up before i get bored_

 **Tony** : _Video Attachment_

 **Tony** : _can’t promise i won’t get started without you_

 **Steve** : _Two minutes. I will run the rest of the way home if I have to._

 **Tony** : _run fast baby_

***

 **Steve** : _See you tomorrow!!_


	15. Chapter 15

Unfortunately, Tony can’t drop everything the second Steve gets to Boston, and Steve’s schedule resulted in filming starting almost the minute he arrived. There’s a few hours where Steve is just ten miles away, closer than he’s been in months, and there’s nothing he can do but wait for Laura to replace him at the bookstore. She started taking shifts at the store a few weeks ago, after she realized that she hates bartending, and Tony’s especially grateful for the help now. It means that after today, he’s free for the next few days. 

“You need to relax,” Nat says, putting her hand on his shoulder and pushing him back against his seat. “You’re practically vibrating.”

“Sorry,” he sighs. “I’m nervous.”

The film set is another three miles down the road, and the closer they get, the more he fidgets. 

“This is exactly why I’m driving. You would have crashed yourself into a tree by now.”

He laughs because she’s right; he’s far too unfocused to be operating any sort of machinery right now. 

“Why are you nervous, anyway?” she asks. “You’ve basically been dating him long distance for months now.”

“But this is - it’s different. This is public, and we’ve never been public. There are other people, and they’re going to see us, and it’s going to be, like, a _thing_.”

Natasha frowns, “You don’t want to go public with him now?”

“No, no, no,” he quickly says. “I do, but I think I’m just freaking out a little. What if it’s one of those things that sounds better in theory than in reality? Like yeah, I hated the fact that I had to pretend to be just his friend in public before, but what if that was actually better than whatever happens now?”

Natasha taps her fingers against the steering wheel, nails making a clicking sound. “How much of this freak out is real and how much is just you spiralling for no reason?”

“I don’t know. Probably half and half.”

“Can you at least start from the beginning so I can follow the spiral? I really don’t know how we went from excited to see Steve to scared.”

Tony pushes a hand through his hair, slumping back. “I couldn’t sleep last night, because I kept thinking about today.”

“Oh, okay,” Nat interrupts. “This is one hundred percent spiral. Continue.” 

“Anyway, I started thinking about how great it’s going to be when we don’t have to hide anything. You know, I can hold his hand when we go out, and I can call him baby in front of other people, and all of the things that I didn’t get to do before.

“But then I started thinking about how _everyone_ is going to know about it. Like other people are going to have opinions about us. We’re going to be that couple that gets talked about in trashy magazines, and that’s just so weird. He’s _famous,_ Nat. Do you know how many websites named him Sexiest Man Alive last year?”

They’re stopped at a red light, allowing Nat the opportunity to give him a long, assessing stare. She always looks like she’s reading right into his soul, and maybe she is. 

“Since when do you give a shit what other people say about you?”

Tony shakes his head, “It’s not really about that. I don’t really care what they say about me. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Natasha silently waits for him to continue. He swallows, directing his gaze out the window, and confesses, “I’m scared I was only good as a secret. What if he realizes that the only thing he liked about me was that no one knew? What if we do this, and he ends up not wanting it anymore?”

“Tony, no offense, but if he wasn’t in love with you, he wouldn’t still be here. You’re fucking annoying,” she says bluntly, startling a laugh out of him. “And so am I, and Clint, and Pepper, and hell, even Rhodey is annoying. No one in their right mind would choose to hang out with us for two months just to get some sort of secret sex thrill. A male escort would have been a thousand times easier than that.”

Once he starts laughing, he can’t quite stop. There’s no one as good as Nat at pulling him right out a spiral. “That’s so mean.”

Natasha shrugs, “Hey, I insulted all of us, not just you.”

“I guess it’s nice to know I’m less convenient than a hooker.” 

“A lot less convenient,” Natasha grins. “And if you still need convincing, here’s another point. Just because other people are only finding out about your relationship now doesn’t mean it wasn’t real before. It’s already as real as it can get. I mean, for God’s sake, the man sends you live reactions to MasterChef.” 

Tony smiles, “He has strong opinions that need to be shared.”

“No one should have opinions that strong on cooking shows,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “Are you good now? Because we’re going to be there in about thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says. He exhales, and it’s not even shaky this time. “I’m good. Great, even. Just perfect. Nervous still, but the good kind, you know?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Right, yeah.”

She reaches out and places her hand on his forearm, squeezing once. He covers her hand with his in a silent thank you, both for the contact and for talking him down. 

The film set is on the edges of the Harvard campus, and from the limited information Steve was allowed to give him ahead of time, they’re using the exteriors of some of the buildings for a few scenes. They won’t be in Boston for more than two weeks if everything goes according to schedule, but he’ll have a couple of days off in that time, too. 

Natasha parks the car on the street a couple blocks away from the barricades that are blocking off the area, and they walk the rest of the way. The security guard at the front has their names on a list and allows them entrance.

“That’s so weird,” Tony says as they walk through the opening in the barricades. 

Natasha shrugs with one shoulder, “Better get used to it.”

That thought is even weirder, but it makes him smile at the same time. He likes the idea that this is his life now, walking onto film sets like he belongs there to visit his boyfriend.

His boyfriend who is currently standing just a few feet away and looks damn good in that Captain America costume. 

“Wow,” Natasha says. “That’s some tight spandex.” 

Steve hasn’t seen him yet, still wrapped up in a conversation with Bucky, who is also in full costume, though his includes a lot more eyeliner. Bucky is actually the first to spot him, and he elbows Steve to shift his attention. 

If there was any remaining doubt left in him, it would have gone away at the sight of the gorgeous grin on Steve’s face. 

Steve closes the distance between them in seconds, and suddenly Tony’s feet are no longer on the ground. He buries his face in the side of Steve’s neck, arms and legs wrapping tight around him. 

It’s quite a long time before Natasha says, “Hey, Steve. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Hi, Nat,” he replies, sound muffled into Tony’s hair. 

Tony’s laughing when Steve sets him back on the ground, but it’s cut off by Steve’s hand tilting his chin up. The kiss is sweet with a slightly desperate edge to it. It’s teetering at the line of what’s appropriate for a public display, but after months of waiting, Tony’s not about to stop it now. 

Steve grins again when he pulls back. “I missed you.”

“Oh, really? I couldn’t tell,” Tony smiles. He leans up on his tiptoes to kiss him again, stroking his thumb across Steve’s cheek. “I missed you, too.”

Steve rests his forehead on Tony’s with his eyes still closed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Bucky clears his throat behind them. “So do I get to meet your boyfriend or what?”

“Way to ruin the moment, Buck,” Steve shakes his head. He turns around, keeping one arm around Tony’s waist when he stands next to him. “This is Tony. That’s his friend, Natasha.”

“Hi, Tony and Tony’s friend Natasha.” 

Bucky’s gaze falls on Tony for just a moment before switching to Natasha, where it lingers. Steve had a prediction that the two of them would hit it off, and Tony’s inclined to agree. From what he knows about both of them, they’d be good together. 

“I’m going to show them around a bit before we get called back,” Steve says. 

“Oh, great,” Bucky says, finally tearing his eyes away from Nat. Steve and Tony share a knowing look. “I’ll join you.”

“Of course you will,” Steve says quietly enough that only Tony hears it, making him laugh. 

Steve lets go of his waist to take his hand instead, and Tony beams as he weaves his fingers with Steve’s. 

As they walk, they naturally pair off, with Bucky and Nat a few feet behind them. Bucky immediately starts talking to her, and their conversation becomes background noise to his and Steve’s. 

“So,” Tony starts, “Clint’s staying at Laura’s for a few days. The apartment’s going to be empty. Just me, all by my lonesome.”

Steve laughs, “Well, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you be alone?”

“The worst, really.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay with you while I’m here.” Steve winks, and he’s still just as terrible at it as he was on that first day. It causes something warm and familiar to blossom inside of him. 

“There’s just no other option.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, kisses the back of Tony’s. He smiles as he says, “I love you.”

Tony looks away in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, I’m never going to get sick of hearing that, but please keep trying.”

“I love you,” he says again. 

Tony turns back to him, shaking his head in fond disbelief. “You’re really comfortable with us being like this, aren’t you?”

“Like what?”

Tony points to their hands, then gestures broadly to the area around them. There’s quite a few people milling around - other cast members, crew, assistants. A number of them have looked their way, and it’s obvious to anyone who does what they are to each other. The secret was gone the second they saw each other again.

“In public. Together.”

“That’s what the time was for, right? To get used to the idea of this,” Steve says. “At least part of it, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. Then, just because he can, he adds, “I love you.”

Steve smiles, and it’s becoming something of a permanent fixture for the day. “I love you, too.”

Bucky and Nat groan in unison, and Bucky says, “If I have to hear the two of you say that one more time, I’m shooting Steve with the prop gun.”

“Do those even shoot anything?” Natasha asks him.

“Just blanks, but it’ll still hurt.”

She considers that for a moment. “Do you have two? I’ll shoot Tony if you get Steve.”

“Deal.”

Bucky sticks out his hand, the one not currently encased in chrome for the Winter Soldier’s metal arm, and Natasha shakes it. 

Tony frowns and says to Steve, “I think we’re going to regret introducing them.”

“What do you mean ‘going to?’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue to go!


	16. Chapter 16

The two weeks that Steve spends in Boston comes to an end faster than Tony would have liked. Any sort of speed is faster than he would have liked, but still. It flies by in a whirlwind of set visits, long nights in Tony’s bed, and as many stolen moments as they can manage. They spend Steve’s days off making up for lost time and missed opportunities. He discovers he has a bit of a thing for seeing Steve in the Captain America suit, and Steve is perfectly willing to indulge him every time he visits the set just to make out with him in his trailer.

Ironically they spend most of their time in the privacy of Tony’s apartment. Sam calls occasionally, giving Steve updates on the stories the press is writing about them and the rumors being generated. Steve tells him to respond to the requests for comments with a vague statement that confirms the relationship, but gives no other details. Other than that, they don’t look at all for what people are saying about them. It doesn’t matter.

Their last day together coincides with Steve’s birthday, which is good. It prevents either of them from focusing too much on the end and gives them a recent to celebrate instead. He can’t be sad while waking up Steve with a birthday blowjob, at least not until after. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Tony confesses in the dim morning light in his bedroom. His head is on Steve’s shoulders, his fingertips tracing the ridges of Steve’s well-defined chest. They have skin on skin contact from head to toe, warmth flowing between them in every place they’re connected. 

“I don’t want to go either,” Steve whispers back. He trails his hand up and down Tony’s arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “But it’s only for a few weeks.”

“Two months is not a few weeks.”

Steve kisses his forehead softly, lips lingering there. “I’ll call you every day.”

“I’m stealing all your shirts before you leave.”

Steve laughs, “They’re all yours.”

“And I’m going to send you some very dirty pictures of me wearing them.” 

Steve’s hold on him tightens, and the hand that was on his arm moves lower to rest on his lower back. “I swear to God if you make me hard right before an interview again I’m going to break up with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Tony grins. 

“No, I won’t,” Steve sighs dramatically. “I am unfortunately in love with you.”

“Unfortunately? I am a treasure, Steven. It is an honor to be in love with me.”

Steve shifts without warning, flipping them so Tony is beneath him, boxed in with Steve’s knees on either side of his hips. He’s assailed with a flurry of kisses to every inch of skin Steve can reach, making him dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

“What are you doing?” Tony asks through his laughter. 

Steve slows down, taking his time with gentle sweeps of his lips across Tony’s skin, and Tony hums contentedly. He grips Steve’s shoulders loosely, and his fingers naturally find the marks left there earlier. 

“Just treasuring you.”

Tony groans, “It’s too early to be this sappy, Steve. It’s sickening.”

Steve smiles against the curve of Tony’s neck. “You know, you always complain when I say things like that, but you and I both know that you love it.”

“I will deny it until the day that I die,” Tony says, threading his fingers in Steve’s hair. It’s a little lighter than normal, the golden strands taking on a sandier color from the summer sun. 

“You’re gonna be with me for that long, huh?”

It’s only then Tony realizes what he says, and his cheeks flush. He tries to turn away when Steve sits up on his elbows, but Steve’s hand on his jaw stops him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says. “I’m not scared of the idea.”

“You’re not?” Tony eyes him with slight apprehension. 

“I kind of like it, actually. You and me always.”

Tony teasingly asks, “Are you proposing? Because I expected a ring.”

Steve laughs and kisses him, short and sweet. Tony chases his mouth when he pulls back, and Steve indulges him with another.

“Not currently, no. But eventually, somewhere down the line,” he says. “And I promise you that when I do, there will definitely be a ring.”

Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and smiles. “What else will there be?”

“Whatever you want. Anything at all.”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. He’s never imagined being proposed to before, nor has he imagined being the one doing the proposing. In fact, he’s never imagined committing himself to a lifetime with another person to begin with. He always thought the other person would grow tired of him, or he would get bored of them. But with Steve, he can see the way their life together would unfold, and he’s pleasantly surprised to discover that the idea doesn’t scare him, either.

They aren’t there yet, but someday they will be.

“I don’t want anything else,” he decides. “Just you.”

“Well, it’d be a pretty awful proposal if I wasn’t there for it.”

“Shut up,” Tony laughs, lightly smacking Steve’s shoulder. “I’m trying to be cute, just let it happen.”

“It’s not my fault you’re not as good at being cute as I am,” Steve says, smirking. “Maybe one day, you too can -”

Tony cuts him off by shoving him off of the bed. Steve gapes from his new place on the floor, pretending to be much more offended than he really is. “Is this how you treat your loving boyfriend on his birthday?”

Tony smiles sweetly, “Yes.”

Steve gets to his knees and crawls on them to the edge of the bed. He leans in, kissing Tony soundly, then uses the distraction to grab him by the back of his thigh and pull him down to the floor with him. 

Tony falls on top of him, landing with his chest on Steve’s and Steve’s arms cradling him so he doesn’t actually hit the floor. The blanket came down with him, and they’re a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, but they’re both grinning.

Settling himself comfortably on top of Steve, he says, “It’s pretty nice down here.”

Steve hums, stroking his hand through Tony’s hair. They stay like that for a while, and Tony almost falls back asleep until the bedroom door opens. 

He looks over his shoulder to see Clint in the doorway, looking thoroughly confused. A moment later, he shrugs and says, “Laura and I made breakfast. Please put some clothes on before coming out here.”

Clint turns to leave, then turns back to add, “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Steve says as the door closes again. He looks at Tony. “I thought he got his kitchen privileges revoked.”

Tony gets up from the floor and offers his hand out to help Steve up. “He did, but he has them back as long as Laura is there to supervise.”

Their plans for the day will definitely require a shower later, so for now they pull on sweatpants and t-shirts that were tossed carelessly on the floor the night before. Tony, true to his word, takes one of Steve’s, and Steve doesn’t even attempt to hide how pleased that makes him. 

Laura smiles at them when they walk into the kitchen, and she wishes Steve a happy birthday as she flips a pancake. Tony retrieves coffee for both of them, then sits next to Steve at the table. 

He hooks his ankle around Steve’s as they eat, casual conversation flowing easily between the four of them. The whole scene is incredibly domestic, Tony thinks, and there’s a small twinge in his chest when he remembers that Steve will be gone by this time tomorrow. 

He looks over at Steve, only to find that Steve was already looking at him, and it eases some of the ache, if only a little. 

“So, we’re meeting at Pepper’s place tonight, right?” Laura asks. 

Tony nods, “Pizza, cake, then fireworks.”

“You’re gonna love the theme,” Clint says with a grin. “I chose it myself.”

“Please tell me it’s not Captain America,” Tony implores. He wasn’t allowed to participate in choosing the theme. His friends banned him when they all decided he wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret. They’re probably right. Steve would have only had to ask once, and Tony would have told him. 

Clint makes a face, “No, man, that’s too obvious. It’s Steve’s first time celebrating his birthday with us, it’s got to be better than that.”

“I’m going to regret agreeing to this, aren’t I?” Steve asks. 

“It’ll be the best birthday of your life,” Clint promises. “That’s a Clint Barton guarantee.”

“I still don’t get why it needs a theme,” Laura says. 

She hasn’t seen one of their parties yet. For Pepper’s birthday, her relationship with Clint was still too new to be invited, according to him. He claimed she would be chased away by a night like that, and he wasn’t swayed by the argument that Steve was even newer when he experienced it. Steve is apparently the exception, not the rule. For Tony’s birthday, she got stuck with a shift at the bar that she couldn’t get out of. 

“The short version of the story is that Tony had a sad childhood, and now we all do stupid shit on our birthdays to make up for it,” Clint explains. “But more importantly it means that Steve is officially one of us. He belongs to the group now, and there’s no going back for him. Congrats, Steve, you’re stuck with us.”

Steve laughs, “Oh, good.”

Tony puts his arm around Steve’s shoulders, resting it along the back of his chair, and asks, “Is Bucky coming?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, taking a sip of coffee. “But I’m pretty sure he’s just coming for Nat.”

“I’m sure at least ten percent of the reason if you,” Tony jokes.

Clint snorts, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“You sound like you know something,” Tony grins and clasps his hands together under his chin. “C’mon, spill.”

“Well, she didn’t actually tell me, but I think they went out last night.”

“Yeah, they went to that place over on Columbus. The one I always forget the name of, ” Steve says. Everyone looks at him, and he frowns, “What? I thought we all knew that.”

Gossiping about Natasha and Bucky has become commonplace over the last two weeks. Nat remains tight-lipped about it, alternating between claiming nothing is happening and refusing to comment. They all know, though, that it means she really likes him. She only shares when it’s meaningless.

“No, we don’t all know that. Why do you?” Tony asks. 

Steve shrugs, “Bucky told me.”

“What the hell, Steve?” Clint throws his hands in the air. “I thought we were friends.”

“You had insider information and didn’t share it with me?” Tony questions. 

Clint shakes his head, “And after we officially let him in the group no less.”

Tony mimics Clint, adding in crossed arms over his chest for dramatic effect. “I cannot believe you would betray me like this.”

Steve and Laura share a long-suffering look. They’ve perfected it in the short amount of time they’ve known each other. 

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Laura says jokingly. “I don’t think you’re actually in the group until the party. You can still save yourself.”

Steve looks over at Tony with a soft smile. “No, thanks. I think I’m good here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my personal headcanon is that they played laser tag for Steve's birthday and Nat destroyed everyone
> 
> also, epilogue coming soon :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're officially at the end of this story! Now for the epilogue :)

“Well hello there, little miss Madeline,” Tony grins, picking up the little girl and holding her on his hip. She stares at him with big brown eyes that look just like her father’s and her thumb planted in her mouth. “Where is your mother?”

“Are you trying to steal my daughter again?” Pepper teases as she comes out of the backroom of the bookstore. 

“Oh, no, she caught us. We’ll have to make a break for it,” Tony stage whispers to Madeline, who takes her thumb out of her mouth just long enough to giggle. 

“In our defense, she’s unfairly cute,” Steve says. He makes a funny face at her, resulting in another peal of laughter from the two year old. “It’s hard to resist.”

Pepper pulls him into a hug, then gives Tony one as well. “Well, you’ll have a cute one of your own soon enough. Should be next month, right?”

Steve and Tony share a smile at that. Getting approved for adoption was harder than either of them were expecting it to be, but the joy when it finally happened was indescribable. They both know it will be nothing compared to the feeling of holding their son for the first time. 

“Next month,” Steve confirms. He makes another face at Madeline, then pokes her chubby cheek. She grabs his retreating finger and holds it tight in her small fist. Every time she does that, Steve looks like he’s seconds away from crying. Tony passes her over to him, knowing he’s dying for his turn to hold her. 

“Have you settled on a name yet?” Pepper asks as she flips the sign on the storefront from open to closed. “The last I heard it was between Aidan and Lucas.”

“Oh, no, we decided we hate those,” Tony says with a wave of his hand.

“What? Those are nice. What’s wrong with them?” 

“Tony says that Aidan reminds him of the kids in elementary school who eat glue sticks.”

“And Steve remembered that he once played a character named Lucas in a movie. Apparently he was a murderer.”

Pepper laughs, “Okay, I get the reasoning on Lucas, at least. I still think Aidan’s cute, though.”

“Do you want my son to be a glue stick eater, Pepper?” Tony asks. “Is that the fate you want to doom him to?”

Steve looks up from where he’s tickling Madeline’s sides. “You don’t even want to hear the reason he’s rejected the other names.”

“All of my reasons were valid.”

Pepper pats his arm and manages to make it only slightly condescending. “I’m sure they were, Tony. Now, come on. We should head upstairs before everyone else gets here.”

Pepper locks the front door of the bookstore behind them as they exit. They take the stairs up to what used to be Tony and Clint’s apartment, but has since become Pepper and Rhodey’s home. 

Clint moved out four years ago, shortly after he and Laura got engaged. They bought a place in the suburbs, which they all agreed was the last thing they thought Clint would ever do. But now he has a wife, a baby coming in five months, and a dog that he rescued from a ditch. 

Tony moved out three years ago and was much more reluctant in doing so than Clint. Howard had finally decided to retire and asked Tony to take his place at the company. Asked is putting it rather nicely, though, and Tony had refused at first. But he had to admit that he missed that part of his life, missed the feeling of building something with his hands and the satisfaction that came with solving technological problems. He knew he would be good as the CEO. From the moment Howard called he was formulating ideas for new revenue streams and product lines. The only issue was the bookstore.

The store belonged to Jarvis. He couldn’t let it close or sell it to someone who wouldn’t care. It was the manifestation of the dreams of the two people who loved him the most as a child, and no matter how much he wanted to rejoin the business, he wouldn’t do it at the cost of the store. Pepper solved that problem for him. 

She runs the bookstore better than he ever did, breathing life back into it and turning it into what it was always supposed to be. There’s a book club for retired seniors now that meets every Thursday afternoon and another for college students that meets on Saturdays. Sundays have become especially busy because of her initiatives designed to bring in single parents and their children. 

Laura helps her as much as she can, but the business can no longer function with just three employees like it once did. There’s a new face every time Tony visits from New York it seems, and the changes to the way things were are sometimes overwhelming. Their group of friends has spread out and grown, but it’s been good for all of them. 

Natasha and Bucky live together in Los Angeles now, and she’s busy with her dance studio. Bucky has taken on coordinating their wedding planning, and everyone but Nat was surprised by just how into it he is. Tony’s a little terrified of the kid they’re going to make one day. If anyone will succeed on a quest for world domination, it’d be them. 

Madeline starts to squirm in Steve’s arms the second they get inside, and he sets her down on the floor. She runs off to the living room and immediately gets to work on emptying her toy box onto the rug, while the adults head into the kitchen. One of the walls has been taken down, establishing a clear line of sight from the kitchen into the living room. Madeline made that renovation necessary with her arrival two years ago. 

“I swear you redecorate this place every other week,” Tony says. The walls have gone from off white to a pale shade of blue, and the previously tan couch has been replaced with a navy one to match it. The rugs seem to be new, too. 

“You can thank Madeline for the new paint job,” Pepper replies, opening the fridge. She pulls out a bottle of wine and opens the drawer for the corkscrew. “She’s recently decided that the walls are her canvas. It’s amazing the kind of trouble she can cause if you look away for just one second.” 

Steve looks at Tony and smiles, “Something to look forward to.” 

“You can also thank her for the new couch. Grape juice doesn’t come out of fabric no matter how many stain removers you use.”

“Wow, you’re accusing my goddaughter of an awful lot,” Tony laughs. 

“She does an awful lot,” Pepper replies, leaning on her elbows on the kitchen island. “But she’s also the greatest thing to ever happen to me, so I suppose I can forgive her for the fact that she is slowly destroying every piece of furniture we own.”

For a moment they all just watch Madeline playing in the other room. Well, Pepper and Steve do. Tony’s more focused on his husband, seeing the smile on his face as he watches her. 

He was a little apprehensive when Steve first brought up the idea of having kids. It wasn’t long after Tony moved in with him in New York, only a few months after they got engaged. He knew Steve would be a great dad, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. 

Watching Rhodey and Pepper become parents first helped a lot with that. He’d never seen Rhodey cry before the day Madeline was born, and he was sure that his friends had never looked as happy as they did then. He decided almost immediately that he wanted that for himself and for Steve, and he hasn’t questioned that decision even once since he made it. 

Steve must feel Tony’s eyes on him, because he looks over and his smile turns softer. It’s a private kind of smile, the one that’s only ever directed at him. He takes Tony’s hand and pulls him in close, snaking an arm around his waist. Tony leans his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Steve says quietly, “what about Peter?”

Tony grins, “Yeah, I like that one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has made it this far and for every subscription/kudos/comment/bookmark! They seriously mean the world to me, and I'd love to hear even more of your thoughts down in the comments section on this one :)
> 
> If you want, feel free to message me on [my tumblr](https://ifmywishescametrue.tumblr.com/)  
> I'm always interested in chatting about fics!


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